1 Maelstrom: Homecoming
by illmatar
Summary: The 1st text file after 9 comic issues, based on G1 Transformers. If you have not read the Maelstrom comics yet, I strongly suggest you do so! This is a complicated continuity. They can be found at deviantart under illmatar. MATUREViolence
1. Chapter 1

**Maelstrom 1**

**Homecoming: Part 1**

Author's note: This story is part of a LONG series called Maelstrom. It is strictly Gen. 1 - sorry, but that was all that was out when I started writing. If you have not read the nine original Maelstrom Comics and the preceding text stories, I strongly suggest you do. They can be found at http// illmatar. deviantart. com I have put double spaces between the addy here or FF . Net eats the link.

This scene contains strong language and violence. Rated M for adult themes! Really! Transformers characters belong to Hasbro. Critiques adored!

Cybertron spread out beneath them at last, glowing and beautiful. Looking down at his home from orbit, Rodimus couldn't decide what to feel. They were waiting for landing clearance, and it gave him plenty of time to reflect. The humanized Autobot had envisioned this moment countless times with hope and dread. There was so much about him that was different that had nothing to do with physical appearance. One thing he hadn't counted on was the raw impact of Cybertron on his ultra-sensitive human senses. Whatever else he might feel-this was home. He belonged to it.

Sitting beside him in the co-pilot's seat, Lancer fought to control her emotions as well. She was also startled by the depth of emotion this (alien?) world inspired in her. It was her first visit to a planet she knew with all the secret intimacy of a native. Even so, even though she had fought so long to reach this place, struggled with all her heart and skill to bring Rodimus home, she felt no triumph. While they were marooned and traveling, Cybertron had seemed an unreal, unreachable goal. Now they were here. It was over.

Lancer sighed inwardly, and hoped Rodimus was too distracted to pick up on her fears. He had enough to deal with. This was going to be even harder than her worst fears. Since the link between them opened, Rodi had shared more and more memories with her, and visa versa. Lately the young woman had found herself missing people she'd never met, and reliving things she'd never done. She knew Rodimus sometimes had similar confusion with her memories. It had been fun, after a while, to truly walk in his shoes. As for the memories they'd made together....well, that was over.

Now Lancer found herself in the awkward position of visiting total strangers and viewing them as "family". She tried to view Cybertron as a foreign realm. Instead, she felt home. She let Rodimus do the talking when it was their turn to request landing clearance. He gave them a false name for the ship, a false planet of origin, false names for himself and Lancer, and of course a completely false reason for visiting. Lancer shook her head. Rodimus was so good at lying - she was glad he was so honest or no one would ever be safe.

He sighed. "This shouldn't work."

"It will," Lancer assured him.

Rodimus frowned. "It won't for much longer," he growled determinedly. "We are in a stolen ship full of smuggler's compartments under false pretenses. W e murdered the crew, and we're even lying about where we came in from, and they aren't even scanning us. That was supposed to be S.O.P. BEFORE I got snatched!" He drummed his fingers in irritation.

Lancer just glared down at the planet in disgust. "You certainly have your work cut out for you," she said, just as they received permission to land.

The docking platforms were crowded with busy beings from many worlds. They swarmed around the area to transport tubes which whisked them to various points on Cybertron. In many ways, it was exactly like the other ports Rodimus and Lancer had passed through on their way here. With one difference. One of the ships which landed just ahead of them wasn't a freighter or passenger ship full of tourists. It was an Autobot shuttle, and the passengers disembarking were Springer and Arcee. Rodimus froze - his mind numbed by the sight of his friends. Lancer managed not to let his turmoil garble her own wits, and scanned the two oblivious Autobots. Why would they notice two more fleshlings in the swarm?

"It's hard not to just run right up to them," Rodimus finally said, "I've really missed them."

Lancer put her hand on his arm, "I know, but you were the one who decided that was not the best way to handle things. C'mon. Lets go find your human friends."

Rodi nodded, and they turned to leave, but he couldn't help looking back at Springer and Arcee as they passed. Arcee noticed the little red-head staring back at them before turning away quickly . She wasn't entirely sure that he'd been looking at them, because she couldn't imagine why the sight of them would make a human so sad. She watched after him for a moment before losing them in the crowd of other humans.

"What's wrong?" Springer asked, taking her hand.

Arcee hesitated, "Nothing, I guess."

"Which way?" Lancer wanted to know.

"Hmm..?"

"Snap out of it! I know this is hard for you, but they are still after us. Don't make it TOO easy for them to nail you. OK? I'd be pissed if all my hard work getting you here went to shit."

Rodimus didn't respond to her needling, which meant he was even more upset than she realized.

"I'm afraid," he said.

"I know. Let's hunt."

x

x

x

Lancer and Rodimus finally found their target after about fours hours of walking and subtle inquiries. Lancer let Rodimus do most of the talking again, and they targeted female clerks at the EDC academy, posing as friends here on a "surprise visit". They had found on their journey back to Cybertron, that Rodimus could charm answers out of just about any humanoid female with little more than a smile. He didn't even need to work at it in most cases.

Their target was sitting in a courtyard near EDC academy where he was currently enrolled as a cadet. He was reading a text of some kind, and eating some of the greasy junk food college students seem to thrive on. Rodimus recognized him from afar, even though the young man was sitting with his back to them. They waited until a table nearby cleared out, but even then Rodimus hesitated.

"Lets go Rodi," Lancer prompted.

"I'm fine," came the tense reply.

"Sure you are. That explains why you're standing here like a deer in headlights. He's just a kid. I'm sure he doesn't bite as hard as I do."

They took their seats at the round white table behind the target and to the left, and prepared to say their prearranged lines.

Rodimus took a deep breath, and briefly wondered what it was that made that a calming gesture for humans. He stared at the back of Daniel's head without moving. Lancer elbowed him.

"S..so, its been a while since I've been fishing," he finally stammered, making sure his voice carried over the noise in the courtyard.

"Oh yeah?" Lancer said, "Why?" She was the picture of polite interest.

"Well, the last time, I went my friend and I both got hurt." Rodi said, a little more calmly.

"Really, what happened?"

"Well, these goons jumped us. My friend got a compound fracture in his left arm, and I ended up on the operating table." Rodimus said, his voice gruff with emotion.

"Uh-huh. Chest wounds, right?" Lancer said, looking sideways at Daniel. He was still holding his book, but he was sitting bolt upright, not looking at it.

"Yeah. The worst part was having to walk home. I didn't think I'd make it, so I told my friend to go on without me."

"Did he go?" Lancer asked, looking at Rodimus. Daniel was glancing quickly over his shoulder-trying to pretend he wasn't listening to every word the two strange people were saying. She felt Rodimus' heart skip a beat, as he noticed their plan was really working.

He continued their ruse. "Not right away. We both thought I would die. He didn't want to leave me. He yelled at me about it, but I told him it was alright and that I wasn't afraid." Daniel slowly turned around and looked right at them.

Rodimus met his friend's eyes, trying to put all he felt into his expression for once. Daniel grew visibly pale as Rodimus continued.

"The last thing he said to me was that he'd miss me. I've been gone so long...I wonder if he has." Daniel slowly stood, and came over to stare down at Rodi's face. The cadet's eyes were wide and brimming with tears, but he was silent.

"Hi Kid," Rodimus said gently, "You grew up on me."

Daniel leaned down until he was a mere foot from Rodi's face. "I shouldn't believe this," he said, in a calm, deep voice. A man's voice. "I just know it's you. Hi Rodimus. You've changed...and I did miss you."

Rodimus stood up so quickly his chair tipped over, and he grabbed Daniel in a crushing bear-hug.

Lancer turned away.

Daniel sat down at their table while Rodimus picked up his abused chair, and then the explanations started. Well, a version of them anyway. Lancer watched Rodimus with his friend and tried to enjoy the first decent cup of coffee she'd had since the accident with the teleporter.

Finally Daniel asked, "What are we going to do now?"

"Can you get us into Central? I need to talk to Optimus, but I knew better than to just waltz in on him like this," Rodimus said.

"It's not that easy to get in to see him anymore. He's changed since you've been gone. I suppose my dad could probably manage it."

Damn it partner! What's wrong with you? Since when is Danny an unwelcome visitor? Rodimus thought with concern.

Worry about it when you see him. It may not be as bad as it sounds, Lancer sent back. The problem was, underneath it all, he knew she didn't believe it either.


	2. Chapter 2

**Maelstrom 1**

**Homecoming: Part 2**

Author's note: This story is part of a LONG series called Maelstrom. It is strictly Gen. 1 - sorry, but that was all that was out when I started writing. If you have not read the nine original Maelstrom Comics and the preceding text stories, I strongly suggest you do. They can be found at http// illmatar. deviantart. com I have put double spaces between the addy here or FF . Net eats the link.

This scene contains strong language and violence. Rated M for adult themes! Really! Transformers characters belong to Hasbro. Critiques adored!

After a few skeptical hours at the Witwicky residence, they were heading for Optimus' office. Spike had managed to arrange a meeting, although Rodimus could tell from the length of the private conversation, and Spike's carefully hidden frustration, that it hadn't been very easy. Rodimus felt nervous and a little damp from Carli's tearful greeting.

Ironically, the more nervous he got, the less it showed. He'd always tended to hide his fears, but the Jabez had turned that tendency into an insurmountable compulsion. He was more afraid now of his closest friends than he'd even been of the Decepticons. He feared they wouldn't accept him. He feared somehow that he wouldn't be able to accept them. Mostly, he feared Optimus would turn those over-insightful optics on him and see the pain inside.

The Matrix frightened him too - even more than usual. It had always unnerved him with the responsibility it represented, but now more than even, he sensed the fragility of the lives in his hands. Things were so different - HE was so different. What would it make of the things he'd learned, felt, and endured? Should he avoid it altogether? Could he?

All of his fretting came to an abrupt end when they arrived at Prime's private office.

"Big doors," Rodimus muttered as they approached.

Spike laughed. "Looks a little different from down here, doesn't it Rodi?"

"You'll be fine," Lancer said, more to his internal concerns than his worries about his height. The doors opened, and the three humans approached Optimus desk. It look like a small building to Rodimus, and his partner face loomed in the distance behind it. Prime sat with his fingers laced, and seemed to glare a little as they approached. Lancer scanned him. There was no sign of Conversion.

"Welcome Spike," Optimus said, not sounding like he meant it at all. "Now, what was so important that it couldn't wait?"

Spike frowned a little, but didn't seem too surprised by Op's cold tone. He didn't quite know how to answer Prime's question though. "Um...well..you see..." He heard a strange noise and glanced curiously at Lancer.

Rodimus covered for her quickly. "It's OK, Spike. I'll take it from here." Lancer quit growling.

He's rude!

Something's wrong. Lay off, OK?! And give me a leg up! Rodimus insisted.

Fine. Have it your way, she sent, lacing her fingers. She turned to face away from Optimus and braced her legs. Rodimus took a silent running step towards her, planted his foot firmly on her interlaced fingers, and pushed off. With impeccable timing, she lifted her arms at the same instant, adding her force to the spring of his powerful legs. Their combined effort launched him into the air. He turned a neat somersault, and landed gracefully on his feet in front of an astonished, slightly outraged Autobot commander.

Optimus was about to sputter some indignant protests about this insolent human jumping on his desk, when Rodimus met his eyes, and the Matrix suddenly sent urgent pulses of recognition through him.

The young man on the desk quirked an ironic eyebrow, and smiled. "Is it safe?" he asked facetiously with his arms crossed over his chest. He was suddenly very relaxed and in command of himself again. Optimus gazed at him without moving for almost three minutes. When he finally did speak, it was without any preamble or question about who he was addressing. He knew.

"I was sure you were dead. I felt you die. If the Matrix didn't know you, no amount of arguing could convince me of anything else. I...I... Welcome home partner."

Spike smiled in satisfaction. It had been a long time since he'd heard such warmth in Optimus' voice, and he suddenly felt as if the Autobot's had just gotten BOTH of their leaders back. He happened to glance at the strange young woman who'd brought Rodimus home at that instant. She was staring, oblivious to his scrutiny, up at the reunion on the desk. She had a strange, sad smile on her lips, as if this moment caused her both pleasure and sorrow. Spike wondered who she really was, and where she'd come from.

"Rodimus. What happened to you? You've been gone for so long!" Optimus asked, wondering if the months of grief had really been necessary. The effect of his question on Rodi's face told Optimus more than Rodi's soft answer.

"If you don't know, then I assume you haven't heard any word of Goldbug," the young human said, looking away.

"NO! We thought you were both dead!! Is Goldbug alive?!"

Rodimus didn't answer, and from the cold blank look on his face, Optimus wasn't even sure he heard the question. Rodimus wore no real expression at all, but suddenly the distant anguish Optimus had felt through the Matrix had a clear focus. It had happened. Whatever had caused so much pain had been real - not some part of Optimus' own over-taxed imagination. The months of doubting his own sanity dissipated, and were replaced by fears of an even darker sort.

Lancer stiffened. "Hey. HEY!" she said urgently. With a faint growl, she leapt up, catching her nails on the edge of Op's desk, and swinging herself up, and over. She landed in front of Rodi, her back to Optimus, and grabbed him by the arms. She shook him slightly as she spoke.

"He's dead or on Maelstrom, Rodimus. That's it! There's no third option! Do you hear me?! NONE!" She said firmly, conviction in her every syllable. Rope it in Rodi. she sent to him, when he refused to meet her eyes. She half turned to look at Optimus over her shoulder - keeping her body between Op and his partner. Optimus found her attitude strangely protective and wondered who she was.

"Look," she said in decisive tones. "we need to do this later. We are tired, hungry, and we're wearing the grime from every space port in the parsect. I'm sure there are other people who will need to hear this story - and it's a long one. Why don't you see to getting them together while we clean up?" She glared at him slightly - as if daring him to challenge her.

"Ah.." Optimus said, still a little too shaken to handle this brazen human on top of his partner's return. "And you are?"

Rodimus was suddenly all smiles, "Oops! Forgot my manners. Optimus, this is Lancer. I owe her my life, and maybe even my sanity."

Lancer wrinkled her nose at Rodi, and gave Op a knowing smirk. "The jury's still out on the sanity, Laser Brains," she said to Rodimus. "Hello Optimus. Sorry to be so abrupt. I've heard SO much about you, I feel like I know you already."

Optimus found himself nearly taken in by the sudden change in their attitudes, but he's worked with Rodimus long enough to know how deviously his partner employed his smile. OK, partner, if that's how you want to play it, Optimus thought. Aloud he chuckled softly. "Told you all about us did he?" Optimus asked after they gave him a very brief, and he sensed, very edited summary of what happened.

"Enough and then some!" Lancer laughed. "Seriously though, we really do need to eat."

Rodimus made such a face that Optimus was alarmed. "Yugh. We don't really NEED to," he said.

"WHAT?!" Lancer retorted, poking him in the chest. "You didn't think you'd get to stop eating the minute we touched down on Cybertron did you?" She continued to poke him in time to her words.

"Ouch," Rodi said, "Well, I had hoped..."

Lancer turned to look at Optimus over her shoulder again. "He's an idiot. How did you ever manage to put up with him?"

Optimus smiled behind his face mask. "Oh, we managed somehow."

"Remarkable," Lancer quipped lightly.

"Oh nice!" Rodimus exclaimed, trying unsuccessfully to sound hurt. "Thanks so much, both of you! Tell me again why I wanted to come home?"

"You hate my cooking." Lancer said primly.

"Oh yeah," Rodimus said, smiling, as they both headed for the edge of the desk.

Silently, Lancer asked, Do you think he bought it?

Not in nine million years. Rodimus responded. He could feel his partner's optics boring into his back as he and Lancer startled Spike by flipping lightly off the desk.


	3. Chapter 3

**Maelstrom 1**

**Homecoming: Part 3**

Author's note: This story is part of a LONG series called Maelstrom. It is strictly Gen. 1 - sorry, but that was all that was out when I started writing. If you have not read the nine original Maelstrom Comics and the preceding text stories, I strongly suggest you do. They can be found at http// illmatar. deviantart. com I have put double spaces between the addy here or FF . Net eats the link.

This scene contains strong language and violence. Rated M for adult themes! Really! Transformers characters belong to Hasbro. Critiques adored!

They returned to the Witwicky residence for reasons of security and convenience, although Rodimus did mention finding rooms at one of the tourist hostels. Spike nearly had a fit.

"I wouldn't let an enemy stay at one of those dives, Rodimus! What makes you think I'd let you?!"

Rodimus shrugged, smiled, and accepted the invitation with an inward curse. He worried about spending so much time under the scrutiny of his friends. Until he got used to being home his stress-level would make him more prone to nightmares and flashbacks.

When they got back, Carly turned the waterworks all over him again.

x

x

x

Later, having gotten the first decent shower of his brief human existence, Rodimus rested on the living room couch, and stared out the window at his world. Spike had gone briefly to help Optimus round up key personnel without raising a fuss, while Carly and Daniel threw leftovers together in the kitchen.

You're brooding Lancer said, also fresh from the shower. Her hair was still dark and damp. She twisted it in a deft motion, and rubber-banded it into a pony-tail. Rodimus looked at her in surprise, and then away from her. His heart twisted. Normally, he would be helping her braid her hair. It was a chore he enjoyed, and took for granted. That wouldn't be happening again. She sat down next to him, but not too close.

He tried to hide his pain from her, knowing that while she might feel it too, the cold, practical assassin in her would have no sympathy for either of them. She was focusing brutally on what needed to be done because she was afraid if she indulged her emotions she'd crack. Rodimus put his elbow up on the back of the couch and looked away from her.

I'm worried He finally sent when he was satisfied with his mental shields. The Matrix knows me Lancer, but I'm not sure I should touch it. It was meant to house the wisdom of our people. I was never very wise, but at least I wasn't an assassin, or insane.

You aren't insane anymore Lancer sent. She couldn't argue his point about being an assassin - she'd seen to that herself.

What they did to us...the people I've killed...the people I've yet to kill... What does any of THAT have to do with wisdom? Is it really a good idea to let future Autobot leaders come in contact with the same trauma that drives me to flashbacks on a regular basis? Somehow I don't think so.

You'll have to discuss this with your partner Rodimus.

I know. I just worry sometimes that I don't qualify as an Autobot at all anymore. I've experienced so much in these last months. Who knows what affect its really had on me? I can't even begin to guess what the Matrix will make of it. Rodimus sighed, and then frowned as the scent of cooking food wafted from the kitchen. Now I have to face REAL horrors he thought. DINNER.

Oh. It smells great! FINALLY! REAL FOOD! Lancer sent at him, amused, and saddened by her amusement. Be good. They've gone to a lot of trouble on no notice.

I know, I know. These are my friends. Rodimus returned as Daniel waved them into the kitchen.

x

x

x

The meal started with a simple salad, which Rodimus ate plain without too much trauma. To Lancer, it was just about the best thing she'd tasted in over a year. Carly was still fussing at the stove, and Daniel was fetching this and that from the frig when Spike came back in.

"Slow down Carly. Magnus was on his way anyway to meet with Prime. We're going to wait until he gets here so we have a few hours," Spike informed his harried wife.

Lancer managed not to growl over the delay, but she wanted to make a quick, clean break of things. Every passing second made it that much harder.

Carly smiled a little at her husband, and said, "Dinner's done anyway. Have a seat." She put the last burger on a bun, and handed it to Rodimus. Everyone else was waiting politely for Carly to finish cooking his burger, because he'd asked for well-done. Very well done.

He smiled at her, and tried to summon up the courage to put it near his mouth. He supposed the blackened chunk of ground up animal on his plate qualified as very well done in human circles, but it wasn't yet at the point where he could tell himself what he was eating was more like pure carbon than flesh. He kept his inner struggle off his face until Lancer mentally suggested it might be good for a diversion. She could see all kinds of uncomfortable questions on the face of every Witwicky. Rodimus agreed, and stared down at his plate in open distress.

Lancer smiled smugly at him as he let the moment draw on while everyone waited for him to start eating. Carly drew in a breath to ask what was wrong and Lancer took it as her cue.

"Give it here you big baby," she said, holding out one hand to Rodimus. He handed her his plate with a big smile of relief. The startled family watched as the young woman carefully removed the bun, lifted the hamburger between her fingers, fried it to a cinder with her mutant powers, and carefully placed the smoking mess back on the bun.

She then handed it back to Rodimus, who beamed at her and said, "Thanks!" He took a bite. The Witwickys stared.

Lancer chose to assume their stares were due to her companion's strange tastes, and not her show of mutancy. "Don't feel bad, Carly. My burger is perfect! It's just that the mighty Autobot here won't eat anything unless its been burnt to a crisp right through. He seems to think it tastes, and I quote 'Less bad.'"

Rodimus' human friends gaped a moment longer, and then burst out laughing.

How was that? Lancer asked Rodimus through their private link.

GREAT! You're a pro! he returned with enthusiasm, then I hate this.

EAT! Lancer sent forcefully, not kidding this time. Aloud they continued playing off each other. Fortunately, Lancer had no shortage of embarrassing events, tastes, and quirks to humiliate Rodimus with, and to keep the laughter going.

The things I put up with in the name of duty Rodimus said, watching tears run down Daniel's face. The young cadet was pointing at him, and trying unsuccessfully to speak. Rodimus pouted at his friend, who fell right out of his chair.

**Maelstrom 1**

**Homecoming: Part 4**

The meeting, when it was finally convened, was a tedious, stressful affair for Rodimus. Optimus had summoned Perceptor, First Aid, Ultra Magnus, Kup, and Jazz. They received the news of the little red-head's identity with varying degrees of skepticism and joy. Rodimus wondered why Jazz, who was sitting next to Optimus, kept staring at him so much more intently than the others did.

Once their initial doubts had been laid to rest (too slowly for Rodi's stress level, and too quickly for his protective leader's side which wanted them to be more careful) then questions began flying. Rodimus gingerly walked a tightrope between telling them too little and too much. His story needed to sound plausible, and it needed to give them enough information to revert him to his normal state. However, he never intended to reveal the suffering he and Goldbug had endured, and the truth about the Jabez would come when he could talk to Optimus alone.

Well, some of the truth about them anyway.

Rodimus wished Optimus hadn't brought in so many people for this meeting, but there was no way he could argue the point without explanations it wasn't time for yet.

Lancer watched Rodi's performance with a sort of wonder. He discussed details of an experience which left him bleeding and insane with a totally believable smile plastered on his face. Without telling a single lie, he made the weeks of torture sound like idle curiosity on the part of the Jabez. Knowing how much he was suppressing, Lancer found it amazing how skillfully he focused his friends' attention on his condition as a challenge to be met. A mere problem for their collective skills and intellects, with no mention of the pain that had accompanied it. Having never been good at hiding her emotions, Lancer could only admire Rodi's instinct to protect his people, and how he used it to channel his behavior.

She was once again reminded that he was in his element now. She concentrated on her tasks of helping him suppress the flashbacks, and keeping up a low level disruptive field to jam the bugs which were likely to be present.

Optimus listened gravely to all Rodimus said, and learned much from how much went unsaid. He had his fingers laced in front of his face plate, and was ready for the shocked look Jazz threw him. He hoped neither Rodi or Lancer noticed the single digit he lifted in a "sshing" motion to Jazz. Optimus had no doubts that this smiling young man was his partner, and was trusting Rodi's judgment on keeping some things secret...for now.

"What I can tell you is that they turned Goldbug human as well. He didn't take to it very easily either. If you haven't heard from him, I suppose it is likely that he really is dead," Rodi continued.

"Is there any way to contact your friends to find out Lancer?" Magnus asked.

"Yes and no." she replied gravely, "Yes there are ways, but no I won't use them," she said firmly. The table erupted in outraged mutterings and complaints. Lancer was in no mood to be diplomatic about it. "OH, give it a rest! My team has plenty of enemies. There are bounties on all of our heads, and we stay alive by remaining invisible. If we try to contact them now, we may bring any number of hunters down on them."

"We aren't that inefficient!" Kup snapped angrily.

Lancer's eyes flashed - literally, startling many of those present. They had heard of mutants before, but Lancer was the first they'd ever actually met - that they knew of anyway. She bit back a lot of curses, and unflattering remarks about Autobot "efficiency", but refused to budge from her decision. Kup seemed particularly upset that she would not respect their wishes due to her unfounded, unjustified (he thought) fears. He also didn't like it when Rodimus supported her completely.

"If Goldbug is alive, they will bring him when they can. Until we hear otherwise, I think it is best to assume he didn't make it." Rodimus said bleakly.

Perceptor and First Aid grilled Rodimus repeatedly on the design specifics of the capsule that changed him, the nature of the energy fields, and other minutia. Optimus suddenly noticed Rodimus once again grow blank faced and distant. He also noticed Lancer instantly reach for his partners hand, and draw back just as quickly. Rodimus quickly seemed to pull himself together, but Optimus suddenly realized how hard this was on his young friend, and decided to call the meeting to a close.

"Perceptor, is that enough for you to start with?" he asked.

"Well, it is certainly not the optimal quantity of information, but it is adequate for us to begin designing further experiments for the pursuit of this investigation into Rodimus' unique condition, and..."

"Fine," Optimus interrupted. Perceptor subsided without complaint. He was used to that. "Kup, Ultra Magnus." Optimus continued, "Your assignment is to keep this quiet. As far as everyone else is concerned, its business as usual. All of you are to consider Rodimus' return, and the contents of this meeting completely classified until he's safely back to normal. First Aid and Perceptor will handle the investigation of course. Jazz-you are going to have to handle getting everyone whatever they need without raising suspicions. Consider these assignments your top priorities. Dismissed." Optimus paused for a moment, "Rodimus, Lancer There are still a few things I'd like to discuss with you before you leave."

Rodimus, who had stood up hopefully at the word "dismissed", sank back down in his seat. His heart sank as well, especially when Optimus ushered the others out, and shut the door behind them. The elder Autobot commander stood with his back to them for a moment and then turned in place with a determined expression.

Uh-oh Rodimus thought.

What? You knew he didn't buy it! Lancer rejoined.

Well, I was rather hoping to be wrong about that, Rodimus grouched.

"NOW, Rodimus Prime, suppose you tell me what REALLY happened." Optimus said firmly, his voice carefully neutral.

Rodimus sighed, "I thought I just did! Really Optimus there isn't much to tell...and er...."

Optimus pushed his enormous face as close to Rodimus' as he could and still see the diminutive red-head. "Try again, partner...." he ordered.

"Optimus..."

"Don't try lying, Rodimus! I FELT what happened!" Optimus said angrily, drawing up to his full height.

Rodimus gaped at him, growing visibly pale. This time, Lancer forgot herself altogether and grasped Rodi's cold hand.

"How?" Rodimus whispered. Then he said, "The Matrix. I'm sorry Optimus."

"What happened, Rodimus?"

"They tortured us. They dissected us. I'm still not entirely sure what they wanted with us, but there you have it."

"What about Goldbug?" Optimus wanted to know.

"We don't know. The rescue happened just as we told you, Optimus," Lancer said. "He was alive when we teleported. Whether or not he is still is very much in doubt."

"I almost hope he isn't," Rodimus whispered. "I hope he's free." Lancer gave his strong hand another squeeze, and then realized what she was doing in front of Optimus. She dropped Rodi's hand, trying to seem casual about it.

"Do you know where you were held? We can out together an assault force to investigate."

"NO!" Rodimus shouted. "Matrix save us! Optimus! They had us snatched right off of Cybertron in the middle of a fire-fight! They had no trouble subduing us, and keeping us subdued and that was BEFORE they dissected us and performed experiments I don't ever want to remember! Optimus, they know EXACTLY how to handle us!"

"Tell him the rest of it Rodi." Lancer said, her voice containing a hint of contempt, a hint of a snarl.

Rodimus looked at her, his face mirroring at least some of the distress he felt. He shut his eyes. "Prime," he finally whispered, the Jabez have created a market for a human slave trade. Mutants like Lancer mostly...and most of the major shipping operations run right through Cybertron. We don't have to go anywhere to meet this enemy. They are already here."

Optimus stared at his partner-unwilling, (UNABLE!) to accept what he'd just heard.

"A slave trade?!" the leader of former slaves said in complete denial. "A slave trade through Cybertron?! Rodimus, I realize you went through a lot but we would never allow such a..."

"OK! THAT'S IT! Shut up you overgrown Tonka toy before you REALLY put your foot in it! Holy shit! I've never met such a bunch of arrogant, complacent pieces of work in all my life! And you have the audacity to call yourselves a MILITARY operation! Get your head out of your tailpipe! It needs the air! Where do you think Rodi and I got that ship from you asshole? We sure as hell didn't pay for it! We ASSASSINATED 15 slave runners to get it and flew right in here with false names and everything without a hitch!" Lancer shouted at the stunned Autobot with open disdain.

She angrily threw everything at him, overwhelming his delusions with truth after violent truth. "We even lied about where we came from, and a simple records check would have shown that! THAT SAME FUCKING SHIP PASSED THROUGH HERE WITH A CARGO FULL OF LOBOTIMIZED CHILDREN LESS THAN A WEEK AGO! IDIOTS! The Jabez and their sponsors have been snatching mutants off of Earth since before you and your Autobots woke up on our planet in the first place! You Autobots think you're invincible because you're so fucking big! DON'T!"

"I could kill you now, PRIME! I could drain your life, short your circuits, or a dozen other things before anyone could stop me. I could even make it look accidental. I could EVEN access your precious Matrix energy! LISTEN to Rodimus. He may be completely insane, but he's also right. You face an enemy that has been stealing and breeding powerful mutants for generations. Preparing them for whatever suits their purposes. They use mutants as breeders, spies, and assassins. Not to mention the standing armies some of the Sponsors maintain. Armies full of custom made soldiers who fear nothing and follow all their orders flawlessly. We have to assume a good percentage wield more power than I do. I'm just a random sport in the gene pool, and they nearly had me too!"

The young mutant gasped raggedly and tried to calm herself. Rage distorted her voice and if it got any worse nothing she said would be intelligible. Her tail whipped erratically.

"The fact is, there is no possible way to calculate WHAT you are facing, when they will strike, or what they already control HERE! Please keep in mind, when they wanted Rodimus and Goldbug, they got Rodimus and Goldbug, and there was NOTHING you could do about it." Lancer's expression was as searing and compassionless as her voice. The Autobots could no longer afford the luxury of arrogance.

Optimus said nothing for a very long time, while a subdued Rodimus, and a still seething Lancer explained the details of Conversion to him. Optimus remembered only too clearly the rage and desperation Rodi had projected during the first weeks of his absence. He heard the implacable truth in Lancer's harsh words, and felt his view of his universe take a turn for the darker.

Rodimus seemed to sense this, and shook his head. "I've learned a lot in the last months, partner. I'm going to need your help, starting with keeping this absolutely quiet, but I know what needs to be done."

"You have a plan?"

"I have thousands of plans. It's just a question of whether I have time to

implement them. If they discover we are preparing for them, they will probably just move on us immediately. I think the only reasons they haven't taken us already is because we aren't a priority. I don't want anything we do to change that."

Optimus merely stared at him again. "I'm glad you're home," he finally intoned, his voice even deeper and graver than usual. "We'll talk more soon, let's just get you back to normal."

"Whatever that is," Lancer said wryly. Rodimus gave her a disgusted look.

That went better than expected, she sent to him.

He's still in shock. It will be bad when its had time to sink in a little. Rodimus said, feeling sick.


	4. Chapter 4

**Maelstrom 1**

**Homecoming: Part 4**

Author's note: This story is part of a LONG series called Maelstrom. It is strictly Gen. 1 - sorry, but that was all that was out when I started writing. If you have not read the nine original Maelstrom Comics and the preceding text stories, I strongly suggest you do. They can be found at http// illmatar. deviantart. com I have put double spaces between the addy here or FF . Net eats the link.

This scene contains strong language and violence. Rated M for adult themes! Really! Transformers characters belong to Hasbro. Critiques adored!

The meeting, when it was finally convened, was a tedious, stressful affair for Rodimus. Optimus had summoned Perceptor, First Aid, Ultra Magnus, Kup, and Jazz. They received the news of the little red-head's identity with varying degrees of skepticism and joy. Rodimus wondered why Jazz, who was sitting next to Optimus, kept staring at him so much more intently than the others did.

Once their initial doubts had been laid to rest (too slowly for Rodi's stress level, and too quickly for his protective leader's side which wanted them to be more careful) then questions began flying. Rodimus gingerly walked a tightrope between telling them too little and too much. His story needed to sound plausible, and it needed to give them enough information to revert him to his normal state. However, he never intended to reveal the suffering he and Goldbug had endured, and the truth about the Jabez would come when he could talk to Optimus alone.

Well, some of the truth about them anyway.

Rodimus wished Optimus hadn't brought in so many people for this meeting, but there was no way he could argue the point without explanations it wasn't time for yet.

Lancer watched Rodi's performance with a sort of wonder. He discussed details of an experience which left him bleeding and insane with a totally believable smile plastered on his face. Without telling a single lie, he made the weeks of torture sound like idle curiosity on the part of the Jabez. Knowing how much he was suppressing, Lancer found it amazing how skillfully he focused his friends' attention on his condition as a challenge to be met. A mere problem for their collective skills and intellects, with no mention of the pain that had accompanied it. Having never been good at hiding her emotions, Lancer could only admire Rodi's instinct to protect his people, and how he used it to channel his behavior.

She was once again reminded that he was in his element now. She concentrated on her tasks of helping him suppress the flashbacks, and keeping up a low level disruptive field to jam the bugs which were likely to be present.

Optimus listened gravely to all Rodimus said, and learned much from how much went unsaid. He had his fingers laced in front of his face plate, and was ready for the shocked look Jazz threw him. He hoped neither Rodi or Lancer noticed the single digit he lifted in a "sshing" motion to Jazz. Optimus had no doubts that this smiling young man was his partner, and was trusting Rodi's judgment on keeping some things secret...for now.

"What I can tell you is that they turned Goldbug human as well. He didn't take to it very easily either. If you haven't heard from him, I suppose it is likely that he really is dead," Rodi continued.

"Is there any way to contact your friends to find out Lancer?" Magnus asked.

"Yes and no." she replied gravely, "Yes there are ways, but no I won't use them," she said firmly. The table erupted in outraged mutterings and complaints. Lancer was in no mood to be diplomatic about it. "OH, give it a rest! My team has plenty of enemies. There are bounties on all of our heads, and we stay alive by remaining invisible. If we try to contact them now, we may bring any number of hunters down on them."

"We aren't that inefficient!" Kup snapped angrily.

Lancer's eyes flashed - literally, startling many of those present. They had heard of mutants before, but Lancer was the first they'd ever actually met - that they knew of anyway. She bit back a lot of curses, and unflattering remarks about Autobot "efficiency", but refused to budge from her decision. Kup seemed particularly upset that she would not respect their wishes due to her unfounded, unjustified (he thought) fears. He also didn't like it when Rodimus supported her completely.

"If Goldbug is alive, they will bring him when they can. Until we hear otherwise, I think it is best to assume he didn't make it." Rodimus said bleakly.

Perceptor and First Aid grilled Rodimus repeatedly on the design specifics of the capsule that changed him, the nature of the energy fields, and other minutia. Optimus suddenly noticed Rodimus once again grow blank faced and distant. He also noticed Lancer instantly reach for his partners hand, and draw back just as quickly. Rodimus quickly seemed to pull himself together, but Optimus suddenly realized how hard this was on his young friend, and decided to call the meeting to a close.

"Perceptor, is that enough for you to start with?" he asked.

"Well, it is certainly not the optimal quantity of information, but it is adequate for us to begin designing further experiments for the pursuit of this investigation into Rodimus' unique condition, and..."

"Fine," Optimus interrupted. Perceptor subsided without complaint. He was used to that. "Kup, Ultra Magnus." Optimus continued, "Your assignment is to keep this quiet. As far as everyone else is concerned, its business as usual. All of you are to consider Rodimus' return, and the contents of this meeting completely classified until he's safely back to normal. First Aid and Perceptor will handle the investigation of course. Jazz-you are going to have to handle getting everyone whatever they need without raising suspicions. Consider these assignments your top priorities. Dismissed." Optimus paused for a moment, "Rodimus, Lancer There are still a few things I'd like to discuss with you before you leave."

Rodimus, who had stood up hopefully at the word "dismissed", sank back down in his seat. His heart sank as well, especially when Optimus ushered the others out, and shut the door behind them. The elder Autobot commander stood with his back to them for a moment and then turned in place with a determined expression.

Uh-oh Rodimus thought.

What? You knew he didn't buy it! Lancer rejoined.

Well, I was rather hoping to be wrong about that, Rodimus grouched.

"NOW, Rodimus Prime, suppose you tell me what REALLY happened." Optimus said firmly, his voice carefully neutral.

Rodimus sighed, "I thought I just did! Really Optimus there isn't much to tell...and er...."

Optimus pushed his enormous face as close to Rodimus' as he could and still see the diminutive red-head. "Try again, partner...." he ordered.

"Optimus..."

"Don't try lying, Rodimus! I FELT what happened!" Optimus said angrily, drawing up to his full height.

Rodimus gaped at him, growing visibly pale. This time, Lancer forgot herself altogether and grasped Rodi's cold hand.

"How?" Rodimus whispered. Then he said, "The Matrix. I'm sorry Optimus."

"What happened, Rodimus?"

"They tortured us. They dissected us. I'm still not entirely sure what they wanted with us, but there you have it."

"What about Goldbug?" Optimus wanted to know.

"We don't know. The rescue happened just as we told you, Optimus," Lancer said. "He was alive when we teleported. Whether or not he is still is very much in doubt."

"I almost hope he isn't," Rodimus whispered. "I hope he's free." Lancer gave his strong hand another squeeze, and then realized what she was doing in front of Optimus. She dropped Rodi's hand, trying to seem casual about it.

"Do you know where you were held? We can out together an assault force to investigate."

"NO!" Rodimus shouted. "Matrix save us! Optimus! They had us snatched right off of Cybertron in the middle of a fire-fight! They had no trouble subduing us, and keeping us subdued and that was BEFORE they dissected us and performed experiments I don't ever want to remember! Optimus, they know EXACTLY how to handle us!"

"Tell him the rest of it Rodi." Lancer said, her voice containing a hint of contempt, a hint of a snarl.

Rodimus looked at her, his face mirroring at least some of the distress he felt. He shut his eyes. "Prime," he finally whispered, the Jabez have created a market for a human slave trade. Mutants like Lancer mostly...and most of the major shipping operations run right through Cybertron. We don't have to go anywhere to meet this enemy. They are already here."

Optimus stared at his partner-unwilling, (UNABLE!) to accept what he'd just heard.

"A slave trade?!" the leader of former slaves said in complete denial. "A slave trade through Cybertron?! Rodimus, I realize you went through a lot but we would never allow such a..."

"OK! THAT'S IT! Shut up you overgrown Tonka toy before you REALLY put your foot in it! Holy shit! I've never met such a bunch of arrogant, complacent pieces of work in all my life! And you have the audacity to call yourselves a MILITARY operation! Get your head out of your tailpipe! It needs the air! Where do you think Rodi and I got that ship from you asshole? We sure as hell didn't pay for it! We ASSASSINATED 15 slave runners to get it and flew right in here with false names and everything without a hitch!" Lancer shouted at the stunned Autobot with open disdain.

She angrily threw everything at him, overwhelming his delusions with truth after violent truth. "We even lied about where we came from, and a simple records check would have shown that! THAT SAME FUCKING SHIP PASSED THROUGH HERE WITH A CARGO FULL OF LOBOTIMIZED CHILDREN LESS THAN A WEEK AGO! IDIOTS! The Jabez and their sponsors have been snatching mutants off of Earth since before you and your Autobots woke up on our planet in the first place! You Autobots think you're invincible because you're so fucking big! DON'T!"

"I could kill you now, PRIME! I could drain your life, short your circuits, or a dozen other things before anyone could stop me. I could even make it look accidental. I could EVEN access your precious Matrix energy! LISTEN to Rodimus. He may be completely insane, but he's also right. You face an enemy that has been stealing and breeding powerful mutants for generations. Preparing them for whatever suits their purposes. They use mutants as breeders, spies, and assassins. Not to mention the standing armies some of the Sponsors maintain. Armies full of custom made soldiers who fear nothing and follow all their orders flawlessly. We have to assume a good percentage wield more power than I do. I'm just a random sport in the gene pool, and they nearly had me too!"

The young mutant gasped raggedly and tried to calm herself. Rage distorted her voice and if it got any worse nothing she said would be intelligible. Her tail whipped erratically.

"The fact is, there is no possible way to calculate WHAT you are facing, when they will strike, or what they already control HERE! Please keep in mind, when they wanted Rodimus and Goldbug, they got Rodimus and Goldbug, and there was NOTHING you could do about it." Lancer's expression was as searing and compassionless as her voice. The Autobots could no longer afford the luxury of arrogance.

Optimus said nothing for a very long time, while a subdued Rodimus, and a still seething Lancer explained the details of Conversion to him. Optimus remembered only too clearly the rage and desperation Rodi had projected during the first weeks of his absence. He heard the implacable truth in Lancer's harsh words, and felt his view of his universe take a turn for the darker.

Rodimus seemed to sense this, and shook his head. "I've learned a lot in the last months, partner. I'm going to need your help, starting with keeping this absolutely quiet, but I know what needs to be done."

"You have a plan?"

"I have thousands of plans. It's just a question of whether I have time to

implement them. If they discover we are preparing for them, they will probably just move on us immediately. I think the only reasons they haven't taken us already is because we aren't a priority. I don't want anything we do to change that."

Optimus merely stared at him again. "I'm glad you're home," he finally intoned, his voice even deeper and graver than usual. "We'll talk more soon, let's just get you back to normal."

"Whatever that is," Lancer said wryly. Rodimus gave her a disgusted look.

That went better than expected, she sent to him.

He's still in shock. It will be bad when its had time to sink in a little. Rodimus said, feeling sick.


	5. Chapter 5

**Maelstrom 1**

**Homecoming: Part 5**

Author's note: This story is part of a LONG series called Maelstrom. It is strictly Gen. 1 - sorry, but that was all that was out when I started writing. If you have not read the nine original Maelstrom Comics and the preceding text stories, I strongly suggest you do. They can be found at http// illmatar. deviantart. com I have put double spaces between the addy here or FF . Net eats the link.

This scene contains strong language and violence. Rated M for adult themes! Really! Transformers characters belong to Hasbro. Critiques adored!

Lancer and Rodimus stepped out of Prime's office and he escorted them out listlessly. Optimus' mind was far, far from his still office. He was barely aware of what he was doing - showing them politely to the door - as his mind tried unsuccessfully to begin assimilating what they had told him. Rodimus looked back at his huge partner over his shoulder - glancing at Op covertly through the fringes of his bangs. Rodi didn't like what he saw on Optimus' face, but then again, he hadn't expected to. Lancer's mind was mainly focused on Rodimus, his worries, and how naturally he was falling back into the role of protecting his friends. Distracted though she was, a perfectly obvious source of life-energy WAS NOT going to escape her notice.

She focused on it automatically. It shone clearly to her energy sensitive eyes. Identifying the individual was not a problem either. She had never seen this being before, but Rodimus' memories were more than enough to identify him. The knowledge of the intruder's presence, his identity, the implications of his reporting the ultra-sensitive information he might have just collected, and a course of action flashed from her mind to Rodi's and back again. It all took less than a second.

It was the first time Rodimus had ever requested the immediate slaying of a Decepticon.

Before Optimus had even fully reached the door, Lancer's eyes flared. Two beams of concentrated energy (unconsciously pitched to Rat Bat's life force) focused on her target and seared into it with two precise holes. There wasn't an explosion. Even as Lancer burned the life out of the Decepticon spy she drew the energy back into herself, leaving a dead husk to fall to the floor.

Optimus stood stock still - staring at the corpse and unable to even register where it had come from. It had all happened too quickly for his overwhelmed mind to keep up with. Magnus and Kup had been having a hushed and rapid discussion in the hall over how to handle Rodimus' return as a human and they too stared in disbelief as the smoldering grey body hit ground with a brittle crunch. All three Transformers stared at what had been Rat Bat, and then at the tiny mutant who had killed him so.... thoughtlessly.

Lancer couldn't help herself. She was annoyed. Rodimus had so much to do to get Cybertron prepared to face the Jabez and their sponsors. In her mind it bordered on criminal negligence that he should have to patch holes in their security for enemies they had known about for millions of years. She gave Kup a long disgusted look.

"Rat Bat!" Kup said. "You killed him!"

Lancer looked down at the corpse again and fired at it until it disintegrated. "Yes. I'm sorry I had to, but we have to be...efficient...now don't we?"

Kup glared...

x

x

x

Char:

It took a while for anyone to notice the noise.

Char was always a bit noisy. Cyclonus saw to that. Decepticons scurried about completing one assignment after another, always with another "urgent matter" to occupy their attention . It kept them out of trouble. It kept them from fighting with one another most of the time. It kept their spirits up. It kept them too busy to nurture dreams of taking over. It kept them thinking they were actually going to accomplish something soon....and most of all it kept them out of Galvatron's way...and Cyclonus'.

Galvatron was an excellent person to avoid these days on Char. At one point, the Decepticons had jockeyed for his notice. To fail him was sure to be painful but it was usually worth the risk to gain his favor. So they had swaggered and bragged for his benefit - hoping to be tagged for some crucial mission. These days no one wanted his optics on them even for a moment. The mad Decepticon had always been violent and unpredictable, but these days he WAS predictable. Predictably violent. If you called attention to yourself, he was more likely to shoot at you then not.

Only Soundwave and Cyclonus enjoyed the partial immunity to his rages they'd always had and even they were suffering more and more at his hands. These days it was the long tedious assignments AWAY from headquarters that were fought over...ANYTHING to be away from those wild, red optics and that deadly cannon. The bragging ceased. The subservient flattery and favors for his approval vanished. Those misfortunate enough to be assigned to the command center did their jobs as quickly as they could.

If Galvatron noticed the change in their behavior he gave no sign. He was too busy raging...and deep under all the bluster and madness there was just enough sanity remaining to feel fear.

Cyclonus had doubled the number of assignments he was giving out. The Cons were grateful since it meant fewer trips to the throne room for orders but mostly Cyclonus did it to keep them out of his way. The Decepticon second was deeply troubled and he didn't have the time or inclination to create busy work for the general rabble. Still, the throne room was the hub of Decepticon operations and it was a busy, noisy place no matter how much the Decepticons wanted to avoid it. Even if ALL of the lower ranks had been absent Galvatron himself insured a constant level of noise with his whispered muttering, moderate musings, and screaming tantrums....not to mention the ever-more frequent report of his plasma cannon. Cyclonus had to resort to reminding his raving commander that it wasn't worth it to kill the rank and file since it WAS so difficult and tiresome to recharge the cannon.

Through all of this, Soundwave watched. Soundwave listened.

Cyclonus was positive the communications/espionage specialist knew what few of the other Cons even dreamed... that Cyclonus was very nearly completely in charge now. As long as the telepathic Decepticon kept his peace he kept his life as far as Cyclonus was concerned. Cyclonus knew Soundwave wasn't stupid - and was therefore not too surprised when Soundwave began subtly helping him keep Galvatron under SOME version of control. If Soundwave could really read minds then he was surely aware of Galvatron's disintegrating mental state as well as all of Cyclonus' reasons for keeping Galvatron on the throne. Cyclonus didn't care if Soundwave was acting out of selfishness, agreement with Cyclonus' plans for the future, or some kind of lingering loyalty to Megatron.

Then again, all of these rumors about Soundwave being telepathic could be so much scrap metal and Cyclonus could be speculating all of this for nothing. There were times he wanted to shake the quiet Con just to see if he would say anything or reveal some form of anger. Cyclonus felt his own legendary cool slipping more and more these days and it infuriated him at times that Soundwave (who Cyclonus presumed knew so much) remained so terribly calm.

After all, Cyclonus knew for sure there were Decepticons missing - with no evidence of any kind leading to the how or why of their disappearance.

When Astrotrain had first vanished, Cyclonus had quietly panicked....meaning he reviewed his recent decisions over and over with uncharacteristic lack of self-assurance. Had Astrotrain been showing signs of mutiny? Had he become angry or discouraged over his side's lack of progress? Had anyone (like those meddling Quintissons)been approaching disgruntled Decepticons with offers of power or glory to seduce them away from their kind? Had something happened on the battlefield Cyclonus didn't know about?

In short, Cyclonus worried he was losing his grip on the reins of power but a careful and honest review of the days leading up to Astrotrain's disappearance held no evidence the triple changer was ready to desert. Astrotrain was ambitious but he wasn't likely to challenge Galvatron by outright rebellion. Megatron might have spared him, but after what Galvatron had done to Blitzwing the Decepticons held no illusions about their leader's current capacity for mercy.

Cyclonus had reservations about that decision (he seriously suspected Blitz's charges against the Quints were entirely true) but the Decepticon second hadn't interfered when Galvatron had given Blitz to the Quints "as a present....and an example of the fate of those who betray me!"

Cyclonus knew there were limits....he argued briefly on Blitz's behalf, but then held his peace.

Still, Cyc wondered what had happened to the Astrotrain. It was unlike the Autobots to take prisoners without at least attempting to use it as a spring-board for peace-talks. Their silence was disconcerting. When Laser-beak and Buzz-saw had returned with news that Rodimus Prime and that little yellow sneak had vanished as well, Cyclonus had all but forgotten Astrotrain in his eagerness to take advantage of the situation. He knew the Cons would be more likely to use the loss of a comrade as fuel for the fires of revenge while the Autobots were more likely to be stunned and at a disadvantage in their grief. It did occur to Cyclonus that whatever had happened to Astrotrain might have befallen their missing enemies as well, but the chance was too good to squander.

The simultaneous Quint assault on Cybertron was irritating in its unexpectedness, but Cyclonus tried to turn it to their advantage... besides... there was nothing he could do to stop them.

Going into the fight with battle-eager Cons and an unprecedented number of Sharkticons providing chaos if not out-right back-up, Cyclonus would have predicted a stunning victory for his side. Optimus' apparent blood-lust proved an nasty surprise and the defeat had been a grievous blow to the Decepticons. Most of them suffered ugly wounds wrought by uncharacteristically viscous Autobots, but the biggest blow had been to their morale. How could they have lost? Even without the Quints help they should have won. For the first time Cyclonus had found himself truly questioning the superiority of his people, and his own ability to judge.

True, he had suffered doubts of the correctness of certain actions, but this was the first real doubt he had about their ultimate chances for victory.

Time had restored his confidence to a degree...and then Long Haul disappeared.

This time it wasn't a question of desertion. Combiner groups were designed to know each others' minds and were interdependent. Long Haul could no more leave the Constructicons than he could leave his own CPU behind. He hadn't been lost in battle either... the Constructions had been working on an outpost on Char, but were by no means in remote territory.

Long Haul had simply "vanished" as Hook called it, while carrying debris away from the work site. It should have been a five minute chore - round trip. The rest of the team had begun searching somewhat casually - thinking the dump truck had gone off somewhere to sulk about his position in life.

Shortly though it had become apparent from their actions that the remaining Constructicons were panicking. They had bullied weaker Cons into helping them search, although once Galvatron found out he was at risk for losing Devastator almost all of the available troops had been ordered to help. (Cyclonus cursed his own inability to be in more than one place at once since he knew the other combiner teams did little more than waste time out there. Devastator's downfall was all to their advantage.)

Cyclonus sensed however that the Constructions were driven by more than mere loss of status. They were genuinely afraid, and kept searching Char and the space around it with unprecedented obsession. They had gone so far as to build weird trackers designed to home in on their missing partner's thought patterns, scanned the area of his disappearance for every known form of radiation and a few forms which were only theorized. They spent long hours postulating on what might have happened and invented ever wilder means of tracking Long Haul down.

Cyclonus didn't know what worried him more...their frantic searching...or the eerie silence which descended on the day they suddenly stopped.

If asked they would all simply say they didn't see the point in looking anymore...but they all said it listlessly. Their work, which had always been so meticulous, fell sharply in quality and ingenuity. Galvatron raged at them, and Cyclonus sensed their shame and confusion. Their sloppiness wasn't in any way intentional. Such defiance would be suicide, and besides Cyclonus knew they took real pride in the work which made them the most powerful and influential of the Combiner teams even when they weren't merged.

If asked they would all simply say they didn't know if Long Haul was alive or not. Maybe that was so. Maybe they didn't KNOW, but their listlessness and their inability to concentrate suggested a severing on a subconscious plain that affected them all...maybe even to the point that they couldn't recognize what had happened.

After a while, they seemed to come around a bit. Hook was first to regain his old precision, but Cyclonus still sensed something lacking in their work...some spark....some sense of ingenuity. Their designs all seemed familiar somehow. It might not LOOK like anything they had done before, but if you took the various elements of any of their recent work you could find its equivalent in something older.

Long Haul might not have been the most important element of the Constructicons creativity, but apparently he had been a necessary part of it. Even their bickering amongst themselves had all but ceased. Cyclonus hated the way the Predicons stalked and teased the Constructicons and the way Motormaster went about with that smug look on his stupid face. All they could see was a chance to rise in Galvatron's esteem, but Cyclonus knew the Decepticons as a whole would suffer with the Constructicons...wounded...like this.

The Decepticon army had plenty of viciousness and brute strength to go around. Creative genius was in short supply. The Constructicons had been responsible for many of the fortifications and weapons designs which had kept the Decepticon a force to be reckoned with even in times of famine.

Through all of this Cyclonus worried, struggled to keep Galvatron from parting ways with the last of his sanity, worried more, scoured the quadrant for likely targets for supplies and energy, gave ambitious Decepticons things to keep them occupied, and worried some more. He began to lean more and more on Soundwave's silent help...or at least Soundwave's lack of interference.

Sending Ratbat to spy on Central was so routine Cyclonus hardly gave it a thought. It never occurred to him something might happen to the little cassette. The few times any of Soundwave's tiny spies had even been seen had resulted at a few singed wings or even more rarely an actual capture. Autobots didn't kill their captives though, so the cassette in such dire straits was usually home within a few days.

No one was quite sure when the sound started. No one noticed when it began...only that it was at first barely noticeable and that as they became more aware of it grew more distracting and then slowly painful.

"WHAT?!" Galvatron bellowed. "WHAT is that shrieking noise?!"

"I do not know My Lord," Cyclonus said - far more loudly than he normally did. Galvatron's worst rages were best met with unruffled calm but in this case Cy clonus had to also make himself heard.

"AAAARRRRRRR! Make it stop! Where is that COMING from?!" Galvatron cried.

Cyclonus looked to the logical choice for an answer and got one...although not the way he intended.

Soundwave's cassettes were stumbling (and flying) away from him. Ravage collapsed on his side and lay there whimpering with his fore feet over his audio sensors. The sound - piercing as it was to normal sensors was surely agonizing to the cassettes' more subtle hearing as Soundwave shrieked in a multi-decibel wail that began shattering monitors and the high-density focusing crystals in many of the lasers in the room.

Cyclonus was stunned into paralysis. He had never before heard Soundwave so much as grumble - even in pain. Yet now he was on his knees and... screaming.

Unfortunately Galvatron was not surprised into thoughtfulness as was his second.

For Galvatron the causes of such an outburst from the taciturn Soundwave were not a matter of concern. In Galvatron's mind things were quite simple: Soundwave was making the noise; Galvatron didn't like the noise; death tends to silence noisy things. What was there to think about?

Cyclonus barely registered the movement behind Soundwave's back since he was so focused on the writhing Decepticon. The hum of Galvatron's cannon as it charged was an integral part of Cyclonus' reflex response though, and he heard it even through Soundwave's wailing. Cyc's optics automatically sought the source... always wary of the day it aimed for HIM. The split second of relief he always felt when it was...somehow...once again pointed elsewhere was even more fleeting than usual once he did identify Galvatron's target.

He feet were moving even as he wondered (for the millionth time) if this was the day his luck ran out. Maybe this latest act of audacity would be the one that got him killed. After all...how long could you expect someone to manipulate and bait a murderous genius before the ax fell? How long before it was his turn to fall into those deadly sights? Maybe his "immunity" to Galvatron's wrath was mere coincidence or vanity. Maybe there were limits.

Certainly, if there were, Cyclonus felt that saving Soundwave by catching Galvatron off guard with a running tackle was probably WAY over the line.

Cyclonus thought all of this and more even as his feet launched him at Galvatron's throne and they fell heavily together down the stairs.

Oblivious to them both and his near brush with the afterworld - Soundwave continued shrieking his anguish - struggling somehow to communicate a loss even he didn't fully understand.


	6. Chapter 6

**Maelstrom 1**

**Homecoming: Part 6**

Author's note: This story is part of a LONG series called Maelstrom. It is strictly Gen. 1 - sorry, but that was all that was out when I started writing. If you have not read the nine original Maelstrom Comics and the preceding text stories, I strongly suggest you do. They can be found at http// illmatar. deviantart. com I have put double spaces between the addy here or FF . Net eats the link.

This scene contains strong language and violence. Rated M for adult themes! Really! Transformers characters belong to Hasbro. Critiques adored!

That night, Lancer decided to perform a little test on Cybertron's security to help dispel any lingering doubts Optimus might have, and to give Rodimus a better idea of what needed to be dealt with first. If she hadn't been so worried by what she found, she would have laughed. Rodimus was asleep on the Witwicky's couch when she left, but she woke him with a sending to let him know what she planned to do. She overrode the security system on the window in the guest bedroom where she was supposedly sleeping, and used one of her light climbing ropes to slip down the side of the building to the metal street below.

Cybertron's night was clear, peaceful, and calm. The air felt clean and cold to her. A shadow amongst the shadows, Lancer did nothing to disturb the dark silence. Well, as dark and silent as Cybertron ever got anyway. She didn't mind the random pools of light, however. They just created that many more shadows for her use. For the most part, she relied on her assassin's skills, and the color of her uniform to conceal her. However there were clear patches she couldn't avoid with reasonable effort, and sensor grids which didn't rely on visible light. In these areas she used her mutant abilities to supplement her more mundane skills. As another form of energy, light was easy enough to absorb or reflect. She couldn't cast actual illusions, or do this effectively by day, but at night she had an unfair advantage over the naked eye or optic. The other sensors took slightly longer to deal with - meaning each made her pause an instant. "Reading" the energy patterns was automatic, but she usually took great care to decide the best way to insinuate her body into the mesh.

If she'd been infiltrating a Jabez installation, she would have scrutinized each grid with fastidious care. Here, however, she soon went through with hardly a glance. The Jabez, aware of their enemies (mostly rival Jabez), knew to vary the type and triggers of their sensors constantly. No two were ever the same, and often there were three or more varying grids interwoven in the same area. Some required complex frequencies returned in a certain sequence with exact timing for example. Not to mention the more dangerous and unpredictable Converts whose abilities could never be determined on sight.

Cybertron was another matter. The Autobots had installed a vast number of complex, sophisticated sensors. The web was tight, true enough, but it was also uniform. Once Lancer learned the way through, there was no further need to hesitate. The pattern was probably the same planet-wide. It allowed her through with an ease that left her cold. If she could do it - so could others. The whole system sang of complacency and conservative arrogance. The Autobots felt their system was "good enough", and never bothered to check to make sure it really was. She wondered how many had paid for that attitude with their lives.

In an absurdly short time, Lancer reached her goal - the shuttle docks. Even at this hour, the area had a steady, if muted level of activity. Cargo and passengers were always finding their way on or off world. Cybertron's renaissance had brought new prosperity to the planet, but Lancer saw the usual signs of human corruption seeping in around the edges. Drunks and junkies sleeping near the newly installed restrooms. Young women and men dressed to show off what was for sale loitering near the shuttles as they landed. Lancer was vaguely reminded of some all night truck stops and bus stations she'd seen on Earth as a child. The tired dock workers refueling the ships might as well have been pumping gas.

Lancer shook her head. Time to refocus on the present. Relying on past similarities here could easily get her killed. The area was well lit. Besides, even if the Autobots were complacent, those manning her potential targets likely weren't. The traders, shippers, and passenger liners that came through here were mostly organic-they wouldn't share the Autobot's overconfident sense of invulnerability. Instead, they'd make up for it by being alert, paranoid, and hair-triggered; and those were just the honest ones. As for the others - they had many reasons to worry, and one of them was approaching on silent clawed feet. She started her hunt.

Less than an hour after she started checking, Lancer found her first smuggler, and had to rethink some of her earlier musings. "Should have known better than to assume anything," she thought, appalled. This time though. she was appalled at the SMUGGLER'S complacency. She was horrified that anyone so stupid and clumsy could get away with what they were doing. She shuddered to think of how easy the bands that were actually COMPETENT were having it.

Slavers. No doubt about it. Three ships refueling on their way back to Earth for more. Even had a cheap Convert with them; the kind with just enough mind left to follow simple orders and drool. Heck, she could still see the fucking implant from where she crouched, seething, between some crates. Were these runners starting to create their own converts? Wonderful! At least it was such a sloppy job that she could disrupt the circuits easily and put the ex-person to rest. At least it wasn't on of those top-of- the-line CV's that could act like it still had a mind if ordered to. It still felt like murder, not mercy, when the converts she killed spoke to her.

How had these morons gotten away with using such an obvious CV out in the open? Hell, the idiots had left it (him) working while they slept inside-probably drunk. From the sweat stains on the automaton's clothes, he (it) had been working all night. Real people don't work tirelessly, without complaint or a break, while their buddies go party. These assholes weren't even TRYING to maintain a semblance of honesty. Lancer hissed and lashed her tail in irritation.

Noting that their ships were as poorly maintained as their CV, Lancer gave an evil grin, and went to work. Stupid slavers deserved to die looking stupid, in her opinion, and she kept grinning as she slid like an eel under the belly of the central ship. "They even parked together!" she thought with cold glee. "How considerate of them!"

x

x

x

Rodimus watched, like a graven statue, as the explosions at the docks lit the night. Three white flares reflected one by one in his green eyes. He dimly heard Spike, Carly, and Daniel getting up in alarm on the other side of the house, but he didn't move. Later he knew he would be shaking his head in perfectly feigned distress at the "tragedy" on the docks. Yes, wasn't it a miracle no one else in the area was hurt! What oddly self-contained explosions! Three ships obliterated. Every on board killed, with one body found on the ground outside, but the ships next to them weren't even singed. Such a shame, but really not surprising. A little preventive maintenance would have prevented the whole thing. Why hadn't they kept the fuel conduits clean? Tsk. Tsk.

He sighed. Once again, he'd hoped to be wrong, that Lancer would find nothing, that all his fears would turn to smoke and vanish. Now, there was no way to deny what he already knew-that Cybertron was such a convenient way-station for slaver runners that they hardly bothered to cover their operations.

Hot nausea , laced with fury and guilt, overwhelmed him. Did the kids he'd seen converted pass through here? Did they tell themselves that their great protectors the Autobots would surely save them, even as they crouched in cramped smuggling compartments? Had they cried out in disbelief, as Cybertron had fallen away, in haughty ignorance, behind them? He felt Lancer's matching rage.

In a twisted way, Rodimus was glad things had gotten so bad. He could use it to his advantage. If the Autobots were guilty of complacency, then apparently some of the slavers were following suit. Rodimus intended to exploited that attitude with unparalled ruthlessness.

The humanized Autobot continued to muse even as Spike and Carli finally rushed out of their room to see what happened. When Lancer stumbled out of the guest room, looking sleepy and disheveled in a robe, he didn't even bat an eye. He didn't want to think about how she'd gotten back in there. As Earth's primary ambassadors to Cybertron, the Witwicky home was supposed to be one of the most secure on Cybertron. Yet here was Lancer, moments after blowing up three cargo ships, climbing the walls, and slipping through the windows like a thief, and there wasn't a peep from the security systems.

Lancer caught his eye and sent a silent wave of disgust that would have been contempt if she hadn't cared so much about all of them. Instead, she was afraid for them, and sorry for him. He had a lot to work on. Fortunately he now knew what he was up against and what to do about it. The first step was to become an Autobot again - the first Autobot assassin in history.

x

x

x

"So Lancer, where are you from?" Carly asked innocently enough.

"Earth," Lancer answered with a faint smile to cover her increasing irritation at probing personal questions. They were cleaning up after breakfast. Rodi was excused from dish duty - he had an appointment with Perceptor and First Aid. Spike and Daniel weren't.

"Well, obviously," Carly laughed, "can't you be a little more specific?" Lancer noticed Spike and Daniel looking on curiously.

"Not really Carly," Lancer said, pausing. "Don't take this the wrong way, but I'd rather you didn't know."

Carly looked at her a little surprised and hurt. "Hasn't Rodimus told you that you can trust us?"

"It's not that, Carly. It's just that there are those who would like very much to have that information, and would not worry too much if they had to hurt you to get it."

"You can't be serious!" Carly laughed. Her laughter died off at the look Lancer threw her. Apparently the young woman was very serious indeed. "But..." Carli began, and then cut herself short. Lancer's eyes were glowing slightly, and Carli decided quickly to drop the subject.

"The less any of you know, the safer we all are," Lancer stated. She left the room.

That became her standard answer. "Innocent" curiosity abounded. Yeah right. They were checking up on her and any possible influence she might have on Rodi. Little did they know..... No matter who was asking, Lancer always knew Optimus was behind the questions. She was wary of him, and tried to avoid him.

The news that he had felt some of Rodi's pain through the Matrix scared her badly. What else might he be able to sense if he had the chance to study her? What would the Matrix do to her if it somehow picked up on her wretched link with Rodimus? Whenever she was in Op's presence she shielded herself from Rodimus as tightly as she could. It was tiring, and hurt them both in a dull, lonely sort of way. Neither was used to the absolute silence of being alone with one's thoughts anymore. She knew that it was only a faint preview of what she was planning. Lancer could only hope that none of her inner turmoil somehow leaked through to the insightful elder Prime.

The young assassin was still upset about the business at the shuttle port. As disgusted as she was at the slavers, she would have rather taken them in alive to really answer for their crimes. Unfortunately, there was no court of law to try such people. No one had any authority over men like these. Anyone who might have intervened was imprisoned by bribes, threats, or loyalty to defenseless people. No. The only justice, the only real insurance that this operation was down, was death. It still didn't mean she wanted more blood on her hands.

At the moment, she was sitting cross-legged in the middle of one of the computer counters in Perceptor's lab. Perceptor had Rodimus under a microscope - literally. First Aid was assisting this latest inspection by taking notes, double-checking, and supplying his greater knowledge of human medicine. Lancer was assisting by helping Rodimus control his flashbacks. These session were very hard on him, a fact his friends were blithely unaware of. Too much of what they did, said, and used to examine him had direct parallels from his stay with the Jabez. He would plunge helplessly back in time to when the "experiments" weren't so gentle, and there was a friend screaming.... At such times, the only outward sign was a frozen stare. It went unnoticed, especially since Lancer always helped pull him out almost immediately.

First Aid and Perceptor paused in their puttering to mutter with their heads together. Lancer looked at Rodi and crossed her eyes. Rodimus managed a wan smile, and concentrated on his role.

"Is there any hope for me, docs?" he quipped.

"Well if we can reverse the tangent energy fields and reconstruct your, HEY!" Perceptor yelped as First Aid nudged his arm and gave him a disgusted look.

"Yes, there is," the Autobot medic said simply. "We're close. Just a few more tests should do it," he went on, and was about ready to tell Rodi what to do when he stopped. The young human had closed his eyes. He was pale, and the sensors showed his temperature and heart rate were low. Preceptor would have never known the difference, but First Aid did.

"I think it can wait until tomorrow." First Aid said nonchalantly. "You seem tired." First Aid noted Rodi's signs got better almost immediately. Rodimus flipped himself off the examining table with an acrobatic flourish. It was a ten foot drop. He grinned ridiculously at them as he and Lancer left.

"What a character," First Aid muttered, and then stopped again. Hadn't he been reading real signs of fear just a minute ago? Hadn't Optimus asked him to look for anything unusual in their newly returned friend? But no...there had been physical signs of distress from almost the start, the medic realized with chagrin. It was all there in the computers. In fact, those records were displayed on the very terminal Lancer had been sitting on. He would have noticed them earlier if she'd chosen somewhere else to sit. First Aid had never forgotten having to fight for Rodi's life before, largely due to his tendency to hide pain behind a happy face.

Was he hiding more pain now? Was Lancer helping him hide? If so why? What were they hiding? First Aid realized with a start that Optimus was already aware of this little conspiracy and was on the trail. First Aid excused himself from Perceptor and went to make his report.

x

x

x

That night, asleep alone on Carli's couch, Rodimus had the first real nightmare he'd had in months. As usual, Lancer was up and moving the instant he stopped breathing, but the guest room was across the house. He convulsed, and kicked over the end table at the foot of the couch. The table and everything on it were obliterated with a crash. That woke him but it was an enraged, terrified waking. He was on his feet, gasping, sweaty, and furious when Lancer flew into the room. Seconds later Spike and Carli rushed in (again) to see what was wrong.

They found Lancer trying to coax Rodimus to sit down. His eyes had turned an icy, clear green and he wasn't cooperating. He looked quite insane. To their shock, Lancer pulled back, and gave him a resounding full-armed slap across the face.

"Pull yourself together Rodimus!" she snapped just as harshly. Danny staggered in looking sleepy - he'd been up late preparing for class the next day.

"WHAT'S WRONG?!" Spike cried.

"It's just a nightmare," Lancer said, as calmly as she could. "Mighty Autobot here sometimes dreams he's a robot again and takes on all the bad guys." She looked at the shattered table. "They lost."

"Sorry about that guys. I'll clean it up. That's twice in two days you've been woken up by a loud crash." The young man's tone was light and embarrassed.

"Don't worry about the table Rodi!" Carli exclaimed. "Are you alright? You look so pale!"

"I sometimes stop breathing when I dream. My body forgets its not a robot anymore," he said a little sheepishly.

"You must have had some dream," Spike probed, "this lamp will never menace anyone again." He held up its remains with a wry smile.

"I really am sorry," Rodimus said with chagrin, "old habits die hard I guess."

"Well," said Daniel with a sleep-fogged grin, "next time just imagine ME fighting off your dreams, and your nightmares will end!"

The comment was meant as a joke, and the elder Witwickys might have believed Rodi took it for one, if not for Op's warnings. Rodimus smiled and chuckled for Daniel, who smiled back, satisfied, and went back to bed. Still, even in the dim light, Danny's parents noticed Rodimus grow even more pale. His pupils contracted until they were almost lost in the odd, bright green of his eyes. Lancer went immediately to his side, and took his hand in a familiar, unselfconscious way. The hand that Rodi grasped hers with was white-knuckled. As casual as the young mutant tried to seem, it was clear she was very concerned. Plainly, Rodimus was not at all enjoying the idea of Danny taking on his dreams. Spike felt chilled.

In his experience Rodimus didn't frighten easily. Usually, Spike knew, Rodi looked at adversity as a challenge. When he was afraid, he usually had reason to be, but rarely let on. The standard complaint had usually been the Rodimus wasn't cautious enough. Spike had never sensed more terror in Rodimus before, and could only speculate on what could inspire such fear in the brash young Prime. Spike went back to bed unenlightened however, and privately nick-named Rodi the Artful Dodger for the way the Autobot danced around his questions.

x

x

x

A few days later, Lancer pulled her one change of clothes out of Carly's dryer with a sigh of disgust. The fabric was translucent from wear, and even the hide patches she'd made were wearing out. That left her uniform-again. The black and white bodysuit was still in excellent condition, but it wasn't overly comfortable. The suit was designed to armor and conceal her, not to hang around in. The fine metal mesh woven into the fabric helped conduct the energies she channeled, and protected her from shrapnel. It was a great deal lighter than the ancient chain mail which had inspired it, but it was still a good bit heavier than normal cloth. Usually, Lancer took the extra weight for granted, but today she felt tired and a little sick. No amount of sleep seemed to bring back her usual energy.

The young woman sighed sadly. Every second that passed brought her closer to abandoning what was most important to her, and the emotional strain was apparently taking its toll.

"It looks pretty worn out." Carly said cheerfully.

Lancer whirled around with deadly speed at Carly's voice and stared in stunned amazement. She hadn't even heard Carly's approach. Given that Carly wasn't even trying to be quiet, this was a really bad sign. Lancer was so disgusted with her lack of attention, that it took her a while to comprehend what Carly was saying.

"It wasn't designed to take the conditions we were living in," Lancer finally answered.

"Well, do you want to replace it? They've finally got enough human visitors to justify a real shopping complex. I'm glad. I was sick of traveling to Earth every time we needed something. We can go today if you like while Rodimus is getting checked out again. The poor guy must be feeling like a lab rat by now."

Lancer bit back an angry remark about that last comment, knowing her temper was being sparked more by Rodi's stress than Carli's remark. She tried to come up with a plausible excuse to avoid the proposed shopping trip. She couldn't think of one. It was pointless to replace the outfit. She wouldn't be needing it, but she couldn't tell THAT to Carly. The assassin weighed the dangers of revealing too much against all the slavers, bounty hunters, and professional killers out for her hide.

"OK. Sounds fun," Lancer said with an inward prayer.

x

x

x

Daniel went with them, which made Lancer amused and nervous. When they reached the mall, the layout also made her amused and nervous. It was just like the places she'd hung out in as a kid only built to accommodate Autobots and humans. It had all the glitz, garishness, and pretentious glamour she remembered. Hence her amusement.

It was also a potential death trap. Perhaps nervous was too soft a word for her high-strung emotions. Paranoid and really damn proud of it too. Yes indeedy. Oh sure, the place was well monitored. It had security. It had alarms. It had escape routes. It had everything you'd expect to find on a planet at war. That was the problem.

Everything was so exactly what you'd expect that Lancer could have guessed it all without ever seeing it. It had all the typical Autobot blind spots too. Big details covered - in disgustingly uniform ways - but covered. Small details ignored. Unmonitored ventilation shafts. Small to an Autobot, but enough for your average human assassin. Not to mention all the various poisons, gases, and germs that could be easily pumped in. Lots of nice homey shrubs and trees, and cozy alcoves. Nice to look at. Nice to rest in. Nice to hide in. All sorts of cover to move in unseen, listen, steal, or kill what or whoever, and leave again unseen.

Lancer took in all these details automatically. Everything she saw was noted as a possible danger, or weapon, or both. Ways in, ways out, shelter, power supplies, etc. etc. were observed and memorized. She couldn't have helped all that mental note taking even if she'd wanted to. Survival depended on constant vigilance.

She sent all her criticisms to Rodimus who noted and remembered them too. At least she couldn't blame him for any of it. This place had gone up during his absence. The problems would be dealt with, but in subtle ways so that even its designers would never guess. After Lancer left. At least thinking of suitably subtle solutions gave Rodimus something else to dwell on.

Lancer allowed Carly to buy her a few inexpensive and comfortable things. The younger woman did admit to feeling a bit better by late morning. They stopped and had a bite at a small café. That is, Lancer and Carli ate a bite and Daniel ate enough for the three of them. He was still filling out his tall muscular frame, but he was doing it in a hurry. Lancer wondered what he'd look like when he was done with all this growing. She would never know. Her stomach lurched. She ignored it.

Just after noon, they left the shopping center behind, and headed for one of the transport tubes that would take them home. Since the transport catered mostly to robots, the ride was rough and left Lancer's stomach feeling queasy. They disembarked in an isolated tube near the shuttle port. Should have known better.

There were nine of them, and two CV's. Greasy, disheveled men, they looked like most long-haul freighter crews. That fact alone told Lancer these weren't fuck-ups like the one she'd blown up on the docks. The quality of their well-tended weapons, including the CV's told her even more.

"Fuck," thought Lancer, as she sent an urgent plea for assistance to Rodimus. He was off the examining table and running for help instantly. She could only hope he was fast enough.

"Hello...hmmm...Lancer is it?" one of the slavers asked politely. Wise ass. Lancer said nothing, only sneered. Fortunately she'd been the first out of the tube -car and her body was firmly planted in front of Rodi's friends. To get to them, they'd have to go through her before Rodi's actions rallied the Autobots to their aid. If Lancer could just stall them long enough, no one would have to die. She fanged slowly and deliberately. It hurt, but she knew the effect was more gruesome. Behind her, Carly screamed. The slavers didn't give her the same satisfaction, which meant they were prepared for this. They showed none of the fear she'd hoped for. Damn. These were real pros, and they knew her stats. Taking out this many without killing anyone was unlikely, especially with her unarmed friends behind her.

"Well," she said in the demon's reverberating alto, "Are you gonna just stand there flirting or are we gonna dance?" Wise Ass, as Lancer had mentally dubbed him, gestured minutely to the nearest CV. The automaton fired some sort of energy net. Carly wisely pulled Daniel back into the car when he tried to help, but whether she was protecting him from the slavers or Lancer was unclear to the young mutant. Carly seemed to be staring mostly at her. Lancer made a token effort to dodge the net as it flew towards her.

A few more minutes she heard in her mind, and felt Rodi's merging frustration. Too damned long....

Lancer made a good show of trying to avoid the net, but shortly tangled herself in its weave. She also cried out as if in pain at the stun beams they shot at her. The CV altered the net's frequency, and it pulled tight around her.

"Now gloat, you fucking bastards." she thought at the men surrounding her, "Gloat! Posture like two-bit hoods who just landed a big one." There was some pleased muttering, and Wise Ass went so far as smiling before he cut his crew's talking off.

"Shut up!" he snarled. "We've got to get her back to the ship fast before someone sees us. Get those two flat liners out of that transport now!"

Lancer swore to herself - the man's competence was signing his death warrant.

Soon! We're almost there! Rodimus sent.

Soon wasn't going to be good enough Lancer realized with cold fear. Wise Ass had Carly and Daniel dragged out of the car.

"Not mutants," he said, passing a scanner over their bodies. "They might be good for a fuck though. The bitch is a little old, but the kid might be good for some sport. Use the portable on the cunt. We'll save the kid for later." He gestured to the other CV who pulled out a wicked device that looked like a sophisticated drill. Lancer didn't need to ask what it was, and as the CV advanced on Carly, she went completely berserk.

The two men guarding her never saw what hit them. She'd absorbed the net's energy and used it to bolster her nerve response. She would hurt tomorrow, but at least there would be tomorrow. Lancer wasn't ready to die just yet. Both men suffered the same slashing kick and collapsed - their throats gashed and burbling. She wouldn't notice the blood between her toes until later.

Even in full frenzy, she was dimly aware of the close quarters and those she was defending. She didn't fire any lances, but took out her foes by hand and foot. Another slashing kick left one man tangled in his own intestines, and trying vainly to scramble them back into his body cavity.

Lancer leapt on the second CV which was still advancing on Carly, undisturbed by the chaos all around it. It had the terrified woman by the hair, and nothing would dissuade it until it was ordered to stop or destroyed. Lancer landed on its back and tore its head from its shoulders with a fine lance and a twist. Carli screamed again as blood fountained from the corpse and the head landed on her feet. She was drenched almost instantly. She screamed again at the white-eyed, blood coated demon standing over her.

By this point the slavers had recovered enough to rally another assault. They were beginning to understand why the bounties were so high - and why they remained unclaimed. Two converged on Lancer, intent on using their ineffective energy blasters as bludgeons. Apparently they felt the money was worth the risk. Blindly them with an energy flare, and sending one stumbling into the other with her tail, Lancer taught them money is most useful to the living. Somewhere along the way, Wise Ass drew a knife and lost his arm at the shoulder. He bled to death nearly instantly. One of the others had the mental presence to activate the last CV. He got his former leader's knife in the heart for calling attention to himself.

Lancer knew one thing about CV's - waiting for them to use their powers was usually stupid. She used hers instead and drew the life right out of it. The corpse was cold before it hit the floor. She turned on the last two slavers, snarling, and then froze.

Neither man was moving to attack her. They simply stood there looking stunned. They fell in unison, face first. Each had a knife plunged to the hilt at the base of the neck. Lancer's wild white eyes were the only bloodless area on her face. She met Rodi's cold, green stare as the corpses fell in front of him.

"Don't forget to clean your blades," she said bluntly - her voice still modulated. She always sounded like she was growling underwater when she was half-fanged.

Behind Rodimus, Cybertron's finest were stumbling into the tube station. The carnage was unlike anything they had ever seen. Lancer was unrecognizable, but the biggest shock, at least for Optimus, was watching his partner pulling knives out of two human (HUMAN!) corpses. Rodimus had to brace his foot on the body's back and yank before the second knife would pull free. He then wiped both knives on the corpse's clothes.

Lancer turned to check on Carly, who was kneeling beside Daniel, holding him protectively and sobbing.

"GETAWAY FROM US YOU MONSTER !" Carly shrieked. "JUST GET AWAY!"

The blood-stained, barbed tailed mutant recognized the symptoms of shock, and said nothing. She stared at the trembling mother she'd fought to save for a moment, turned on her heel, and vanished.

It took a while for Optimus to come to grips with what Rodi was saying.

"They were bounty hunters. They probably got a lead on Lancer's metabolism while they were shopping."

"But was it really necessary...."

"Yes. We were too slow," Rodi averred.

"But.."

"Optimus, that's all there is to it. Would you rather be looking at Carly's corpse instead?"

Carly stood up. She was still blood soaked and shaking. Her chin was up and there was an angry, defiant glare on her face. "All I know," she intoned "is that I never want to see that murderous, bloodthirsty monstrosity again! I let her in my home! I let her near my family! I..."

"YOU!" Rodimus snapped, cutting off her hysterical ranting. "YOU! I expected BETTER of YOU, Carly! What is it about humans that they can accept power in us, but not in each other? YOU? She did what she did to protect YOU, Carly. You'd be another corpse right here, and Daniel would be 'entertaining' these bastards right now! I'm so sorry if she offended your delicate sensibilities, but lancing them cleanly would have endangered YOU! So why don't you go home and clean up? She won't be bothering YOU again!"

Carly's eyes widened in a different kind of shock while Rodimus spoke to her like he had never had in his life. She was trembling anew before he was half finished. The shock of fear faded before the shame of her own reaction - lashing out at what had frightened her most. In her mind's eye, the demon she'd just seen faded into the quiet young woman she'd spent the day with.

"Rodimus, I'm sorry."

"So am I Carly." Rodimus growled, his eyes not softening in the slightest. "So am I."


	7. Chapter 7

**Maelstrom 1**

**Homecoming: Part 7**

Author's note: This story is part of a LONG series called Maelstrom. It is strictly Gen. 1 - sorry, but that was all that was out when I started writing. If you have not read the nine original Maelstrom Comics and the preceding text stories, I strongly suggest you do. They can be found at http// illmatar. deviantart. com I have put double spaces between the addy here or FF . Net eats the link.

This scene contains strong language and violence. Rated M for adult themes! Really! Transformers characters belong to Hasbro. Critiques adored!

Char:

Soundwave emotionlessly repeated his explanation to Cyclonus again.

Cyclonus was in a foul mood in spite of the unbelievable good fortune he recognized in still being fully functional. Galvatron had been miraculously knocked out by the fall and remembered nothing of how he'd fallen. At least he said he didn't remember. Something in Galvatron's optics told Cyclonus Galvatron knew full well what Cyclonus had done and why he'd done it. This left Cyclonus with the very disconcerting feeling that Galvatron knew how Cyclonus often sought to control him.

Was it perhaps possible that Galvatron knew he was mad and relied on Cyclonus to help him keep from making critical errors? If so was the decision to let Cyclonus help the result of a last remnant of sanity... some faint ghost of Megatron? Was that why Cyclonus got away with so much... because Galvatron knew? And if that was so, what happened when Galvatron lost that last shred of rationality? What then? The very thought gave Cyc the surges. Not to mention that there was the little matter that Cyclonus simply couldn't believe what Soundwave was telling him.)

Ratbat was dead.

His last report had been from within Central just seconds before he died.

Soundwave had seen Ultra Magnus, Kup, Jazz, Perceptor, First Aid, and finally Optimus Prime emerging from a meeting that had Ratbat's circuits aflame with news.

What that news was Soundwave couldn't say.

All he knew was that it had his cassette bursting to relay it. They had just gotten a good solid link established when - whatever - had happened. Soundwave had no idea who or what had destroyed Ratbat because Ratbat himself was not aware of any danger. There was the briefest impression of white light and then the link had been terminated.

Utterly.

Cyclonus had asked repeatedly if Soundwave was certain Ratbat was dead. Soundwave replied flatly that he was sure. Cyclonus pressed the issue.

"How can you be so sure?"

"Affirmative," Soundwave stated.

"How can you be certain? Maybe he's in some kind of stasis...."

"Ratbat is terminated," Soundwave said - in his usual, infuriating, inflectionless monotone.

"But how....?" Cyclonus pressed. He didn't want to accept Soundwave's assertion. He wasn't sure he could deal with all his assumptions about his enemies just unraveling like that... not on top of his worries about Galvatron too.

"We were in full communication status at the time of his termination," Soundwave said. His voice didn't change an iota but he met Cyclonus' optics and held them. Cyclonus opened his mouth to question further and then shut it again - finally giving Soundwave his full attention.

Full communication....full telepathic communication? Cyclonus' mind filled in the rest of what Soundwave wasn't able to articulate... he had felt Ratbat die... and Cyclonus needed think no further than the morning's anguished shriek to know how Soundwave felt about that.

Cyclonus pressed his lips firmly together and drew back, thinking about the little Soundwave had to tell. The little Con had been in Central... that meant Autobots, plain and simple. The top officers had all been present - meaning something big was up - a fact supported by Ratbat's reported excitement over the meeting. It was not Kup's style to leave security - especially Prime's security - in the hands of young, excitable Autobots - so that pretty much ruled out an accidental killing by an overenthusiastic shot.

Which left Cyclonus with the uncomfortable realization that it was a deliberate slaying.

No attempt to capture.

Ratbat hadn't seen it coming.

No calls for surrender.

No warning.

No mercy.

No chance.

With a flare of cold insight Cyclonus realized how much he counted on that leeway... almost like a comfort zone. Certainly it was part of his thinking both on and of the battle field. Autobots don't kill unless it was absolutely necessary. They took prisoners. They allowed defeated Decepticons to retreat safely home time and again when an attempt to harry their heels would probably have destroyed at least some of the 'Cons forces.

Cyclonus had no illusions that some day might leave him dead in combat - certainly he knew of Decepticons who never made it home, and that there were some Autobots who were more likely to kill than others. However as a rule... really as a policy under Optimus Prime's command... the Autobots fought not to kill. They gave you warning - directly or implicitly. They made sure you knew they meant business. They gave you a chance to back off. Always. But if that "policy" had changed...if Optimus had finally gotten sick of letting the Cons just run....what then?

Cyclonus remembered Prime's battle frenzy in the fight just after Rodimus disappeared. What if they actually knew what happened to Rodimus, Goldbug, and Astrotrain? What if something had happened during that fight that had made OPTIMUS crack? It seemed unlikely that Astrotrain could have gotten the jump on Rodimus and Goldbug. Rodimus had been a substantial force on the battle field and while Cyclonus hated to admit it he had to give some respect to anyone who survived as long as Bumblebee/Goldbug (even if Cyclonus had no idea HOW the little spy had lasted so long.) Still...

Astrotrain MIA? Or KIA?

Long Haul? Kidnaped...? Murdered...? By the Autobots? Were they employing ASSASSINS? If so one of the Constructicons was a chillingly good choice - depriving the Decepticons of Devastator and in the long run their finest engineers. Now the Cons were relying on substandard work which might fold under them at any time....

Ratbat definitely slaughtered in Central. Not in battle... in Central. How necessary can that have been? Even if Ratbat had heard incredibly sensitive material how hard could he have been to at least try to capture? They could have found a way to seal off Central...but they hadn't even tried. Certainly he wouldn't have taken up much room in the brig! What could he have possibly heard that was so touchy anyway? What were they planning?

Cyclonus panicked... and was so unused to this much panic that he didn't have the first idea what to do about it. His thoughts ran in circles of ever increasing imaginings. The Autobots were strategically in a far better position to demolish the Decepticons than Cyclonus had ever really acknowledged before - what did it matter when he knew they wouldn't ?

They had Cybertron, they had better weapons, they had far better resources in fuel and ammo, and they had allies. Fuel and materials from Earth. Trade and mutual protection agreements with neighboring systems. Even those worthless sissy Paradronians had been busily repairing and restoring sections of Cybertron that had been uninhabitable for eons....

Cyclonus knew better than to think the Autobots were above exploiting any materials or old Quint weapons they unearthed ion the process. Certainly the planet was in far sounder condition than it had been since Optimus and Megatron had landed on Earth. The huge wastelands of rubble were no longer blind spots the Cons could use to sneak in. They were becoming more defensible and better monitored by the moment.

Some of the Paradronians were even becoming fighters of sorts - a fair number of them had picked up arms during the last assault in defense of their new structures if nothing else. They hadn't all been willing to kill the milling Sharkticons which blundered into their shining towers, but they had been able to herd them towards Autobots who were able to deal with them. Paradronian assistance had kept the Sharkticons largely contained in the badlands where they mostly got into each other's way. If they had been able to scatter into the tunnels and divide the Autobot forces things might have gone very differently.

It was hard for Cyclonus to admit that pack of wimps had anything to do with the current shift in the balance of power but he had to. They might have been wimps but they were numerous wimps and they took scratches on their architecture VERY seriously. They gave the Autobots the one advantage Cyclonus couldn't improvise a solution for - numbers.

Paradron had been a populace world and every one of them now sided with the Autobots - supplying skilled manpower for all kinds of tasks the warriors no longer needed to bother with. Repairs, construction, surveying, scouting, maintenance, and even security were all well within the capabilities of those nosy Paradronians. They might not have been too great with the cannons but they sure could sound the alarms! With gusto!

Leaving the Autobots holding all the cards and lots of free time to plot Decepticon annihilation.

How pathetic the Decepticons' power must seem to them now...not much of a threat really. More like a nuisance.

Underneath it all, shining through all the other chaos of his fears, Cyclonus had a sickening insight. He would never ever be able to view Autobots as cowards or weaklings again. It was terrible... even more so because he never dared share it with any of his comrades - most wouldn't understand and if they did they'd share his terror.

He realized that he was sitting here afraid to face an enemy that had no compunction about killing him...that they might use any means - no matter how cruel or cowardly to do so. And yet isn't that what the Autobots had always done? Cyclonus knew there were things he personally would not do in combat. He believed in an honest fight. Defeating an enemy by cowardly means held no satisfaction for him, but he knew he was certainly in a minority amongst his people. Many of them enjoyed slaughtering for the sake of it...and yet the Autobots had held their ground. They had even prevailed.

Up until now, Cyclonus had held on to the hope of defeating them simply on the grounds he knew he'd have the time to test their defenses again and again.

Time was running out it seemed.

All of this mental scurrying took place behind impassive features which would have done Soundwave proud. Indeed, Soundwave sat perfectly still while Cyclonus took a long, long while trying to get his thoughts in some kind of order. An outsider would have been confused by the sight of them...one sitting, one standing with his hand on his chin...neither speaking nor moving for almost an hour.

Then something occurred to Cyclonus which while it didn't diffuse his terror did throw a new twist into it which added room for hope.

Why?

Why would the Autobots abandon their moral high ground now that they'd WON?

It worked! All of their self-righteous posturing had paid off! Protecting those ludicrous humans now afforded them energy they didn't have to waste materials FIGHTING for. Rescuing those moronic Paradronians got them an entire planet full of grateful saps falling over themselves to restore Cybertron to the Golden Ages. Why now when they had Cybertron securely under their control would they resort to the very tactics they always claimed were so cowardly and self-defeating?

It was so...so UNLIKE them!

Cyclonus had never really understood how anyone could believe wasting time and resources defending short, short-lived little fleshlings was ever a good idea, but he had no doubt at all that Optimus Prime believed it! So had Rodimus for that matter. In fact he had seen far too many examples of Autobots actually risking their lives in that respect to think (as many of his fellow Cons did) that it was all PR and posturing. You just didn't risk death that many times for a feint.

Of course maybe Cyclonus had to admit to a certain arrogance thinking he understood them at all, but really! If eons of struggling on the edge of survival hadn't cracked Optimus Prime's moral compass why would he give it up just when things were looking good for the Autobots? Why would he risk angering the humans and those sniveling Paradronians now? Certainly Cyclonus didn't picture Ultra Magnus resorting to knife-in-the-back tactics. Oh, Magnus would never flinch from delivering a soldier's death in open combat, but would he murder of a P.O.W.? No way. Not Magnus.

That left Cyclonus with the other disturbing (but somehow less unsettling) option of another enemy. Ratbat's death might have been an accident after all...it was certainly possible. Unlikely but possible. At just the right trajectory even a low-powered stun laser could kill if it hit a vulnerable area...and Ratbat wasn't exactly built with heavy armor. It had been all of the top command staff in that meeting...maybe in their haste to stop the little spy from transmitting they'd not lowered their laser's power enough. Maybe they'd forgotten to lower them at all.

Cyclonus smiled grimly....if that was the case the Autobot in question was probably mourning Ratbat more vocally that Soundwave was at this point... which was not to say he would mourn the cassette more than Soundwave.

Cyclonus wondered if Soundwave needed a few days away from his duties to settle himself. Soundwave wouldn't get it of course - Galvatron would never acknowledge any form of grief other than glory to the fallen and vengeance as well. Cyclonus just wondered if he needed it. He didn't ask though. It served no purpose.

Cyclonus sighed and tried not to dwell on the possibility that Optimus had gone as mad as Galvatron or wonder why that prospect was more frightening than facing that fusion cannon day after day. Maybe it was because he could predict Galvatron to a degree no one else could match. An insane Prime was not something he could imagine easily, let alone predict.

He sighed and realized suddenly that all of this conjecture was useless. Paranoia was worse than confusing... it was distracting... and he could not afford distractions where his duties were concerned. A misstep around Galvatron would definitely get him killed and end all his worries quite quickly.

"Soundwave....I'm...I think you should go...recharge for the rest of the day. Report to your post in the morning. You....he should have calmed down by then," Cyclonus said.

Soundwave stared at him again for a moment and then left without a word.

Cyclonus then straightened his back, his expression, and his resolve and went to "suggest" modifications to Galvatron's "Vengeance for Ratbat" assault which may as well have been called the "Let's go on a blind rampage and make nice targets" assault. Cyclonus was a bit firmer than usual in his "humble suggestions".

What the heck - he was feeling fatalistic anyway, but Galvatron just threw him one of those odd looks again and agreed. That left Cyclonus once again wondering exactly how crazy his leader was, and if much of the stupidity in the original plan hadn't been put there deliberately to test Cyclonus' resolve.

Well, either Galvatron was on to him or he wasn't. Cyclonus threw caution to the wind and went all out - putting together a strategy of the kind he'd been itching to implement for years but never dared to for fear of enraging his leader.

Nothing could have surprised him more than when Galvatron let him have his way.

If nothing else, Cyclonus thought when the planning was done and his energon pump slowed to a more tolerable pace, We'll shake them up and remind them we're more than a mere nuisance.... and I'll know for sure if they mean to destroy us all. If this is to be our last fight I will be sure to make it one the Autobots never forget. We will go down with honor.

That resolved - he went back to his quarters for a much needed recharge.


	8. Chapter 8

**Maelstrom 1**

**Homecoming: Part 8 **

Author's note: This story is part of a LONG series called Maelstrom. It is strictly Gen. 1 - sorry, but that was all that was out when I started writing. If you have not read the nine original Maelstrom Comics and the preceding text stories, I strongly suggest you do. They can be found at http// illmatar. deviantart. com I have put double spaces between the addy here or FF . Net eats the link.

This scene contains strong language and violence. Rated M for adult themes! Really! Transformers characters belong to Hasbro. Critiques adored!

Rodimus caught up with Lancer many hours later. She was up on one of the buildings near the battle site. It hadn't been easy to find her; she was blocking him, and as far as the security systems were concerned, she didn't exist. Finally he'd had to rely on the vaguest of instincts which led him to her.

"Carly didn't mean anything by that Lancer, she was just frightened," Rodimus said without preamble.

"I know that Rodi. You know I've faced that reaction before."

"She's sorry."

"Why? For protecting her child and her life from a threat? That wasn't just shock talking, it was instinct. I wish I could get you to listen to yours," Lancer said with a sigh. She'd been stalking the rooftops , brooding for hours and coming to terms with the coming day.

"My instincts towards you have nothing to do with fear." Rodimus whispered in her ear.

Lancer said nothing.

"Stay," he said quietly, resting his chin on her shoulder.

"We've been through this before..." Lancer said just as quietly.

"Let's do it again, just for laughs," Rodimus said. There was no laughter in his voice.

Lancer looked at her hands-the blood was gone. The talons weren't. "I can't. The demon..."

"Isn't you. You've got to put it behind you - it's still controlling your life with this fear!" Rodi's voice betrayed both his fears and his convictions.

"Sure," Lancer said sarcastically, "Ignore it. Easy enough. Will it be worth it when it finally corrupts us both, and your people pay the price? Will it be worth the lives of your friends and the countless others they protect?"

"You won't let that happen. The entity hurt you, but it's gone. There's just you now...and you aren't evil."

Lancer said nothing in words. Instead she assaulted his mind with her memories. Various images throttled his consciousness. Blood rage, mutilated corpses falling before her hands, converted children she'd slaughtered in mindless fury - only to mourn them later. Each death a mark on her soul as a failure to find another way.

Rodimus wasn't moved. As violent and undeniable as the memories were, he knew the whole story. There were no random murders in her past. He sent this reasoning back as forcefully as he could, but she wasn't done with him. First she countered with a flood of guilt for not having a solutions to save the kids she'd slaughtered before they'd been converted. (The lives she had saved apparently didn't count for much.) Then she called out the big guns. Rodi's own memories.

Searing hate for the Jabez resurfaced as she summoned up Goldbug's mutilated face. She fed that fire with horror after horror until he was in a fury as uncontrollable and dangerous as her demon's worst frenzy. If there had been a Jabez present they would have been slaughtered on the spot-with relish. She held the images of his calm indifference when he assassinated slavers before his mind's eye.

Is that any way for an AUTOBOT to think/act/feel?! PRIME?!

The question was like ice in his veins, and while his whole being screamed "MISTAKE", his reason had no real answer for her challenge. The cold, practical side of him which weighed everything against the coin of the safety of his people found his position lacking. It was a bitter, bitter surrender.

Rodimus hung his head. Their time together was almost up, and he knew he couldn't convince her to change her mind for purely emotional reasons like the minor fact she was breaking his heart. "You don't fight fair," he finally whispered.

"Never have. That should tell you something. For what its worth, I love you, and I'm sorry."

"It's worth a lot. If it wasn't, it wouldn't hurt so much." Rodimus said.

"If our minds weren't so closely linked..." Lancer trailed off.

"We would never have found out we loved each other in the first place and I'd already be dead," Rodimus stated flatly. Of this he had no doubt.

"Would that be a good thing, Rodi?" Lancer asked, still wondering now and then if she hadn't made a mistake in not stopping his heart when she found him.

"Maybe. For me. But not for them," he said, gesturing down at the city. "They come first."

"I know." She looked at his sad, worried face. "You'll find a way to protect them from the Jabez, Rodimus. I have no doubts about that."

"Yeah? Great. Who's gonna protect them from me? Some of them couldn't handle my changing from Hot Rod to Rodimus. This time the changes are deeper...and darker."

"Wait and see. Most probably won't even guess."

Rodimus snorted. "The ones that matter most will, sooner or later. I still can't guess how this will affect the Matrix. The sides of me which are still psychotic make me wonder if I should merge with it at all, if I even can."

"Wishful thinking, Rodi. Even if you never touch the Matrix again, you know what's out there, and it's your duty to counter it."

"Maybe I need to help take out the source," Rodimus whispered venomously.

"That's my hunt. I've got dibs. Besides, my life is mine to lose. Yours isn't. You've got to shake the Autobots up! Even if the Jabez don't take them down, someone else is sure to exploit the stagnation around here. It's time for some constructive chaos. If they can't even handle the changes in you..."

"ENOUGH WITH THE DAMNED LECTURE ALREADY! I KNOW! GIVE ME A BREAK!" Rodimus roared They stood glaring at each other for a long moment. Both were tired. Both were hurting, but both also clearly heard what the other had not said aloud. Anger faded with no apology given or needed. Lancer took a stumbling step towards him, and he grabbed her, holding on silently.

"There's so little time," Rodi finally murmured, stroking her hair. "I can't stand it."

"It's enough. It's more than either of us ever hoped for. At least we knew it wouldn't last so we didn't squander any of it like most people do."

"Somehow that doesn't make me feel any better." Rodi stated.

"No," she agreed. More time passed in silence. Below them the night reached its lowest ebb. In a few short hours, it would pick up again as it did with the start of each day, but for Lancer and Rodimus, nothing would ever be the same.

"When I went to look for you, First Aid said they'd be ready in a few hours. They're probably ready now." Rodimus' voice betrayed no pain, only resignation.

"OH NO YOU DON'T!" Lancer said, pulling away from him. "You aren't gonna pull THAT one on me! You are going to live understand? I didn't pull you out of apathy just so you can try it again when I'm gone! This place needs a real person at the helm, not some kind of self-induced Convert! The Autobots deserve better and you know it!"

Rodimus sighed.

Lancer attacked him.

The battle frenzy she'd exhibited earlier was mild compared to the assault she launched at Rodimus. Only the months of extreme training at her hands allowed him to dodge her first attack. Then her second, and then her third. Her mind seemed a solid mass of fury, and he was unable to reach any rational thoughts. He defended himself using every trick he knew, rolling, blocking, even hand-springing away from her at one point. When he finally saw an opening he took it desperately, and kicked her full force in the ribs.

She laughed, and relaxed. Finding himself miraculously unhurt, Rodimus cursed himself for a fool.

"You'll do," Lancer laughed.

"Bitch," Rodimus said fondly, "I thought you were really going to kill me that time."

"I had to be sure you'd fight to live, and if you hadn't fought your best, I would have hurt you enough to make you wish I HAD killed you!"

"Bitch."

"Well, at least now I can feel certain no one else is going to have an easy time with you when I've gone."

"Nice to know you care, I guess," Rodi said facetiously.

"Isn't it though," Lancer simpered. They kept up the bantering most of the way down to the med-lab. It didn't help, but they pretended it did.

On the way, they ran into Grimlock. Both of them had to fight the urge to greet the big Dinobot as they headed into Central. Grimlock didn't know who they were, but he noticed them staring at him as they passed. He thought about them for a while, trying to remember if he knew either of them. They were just entering the building when he finally decided he didn't know them at all, and that strangers were not supposed to go into Central without an escort. He transformed to his root mode and lumbered after them.

"Stop!" he rumbled fiercely. This never failed to send most humans into a state of mild panic at least. These two humans simply looked at each other, and then at him with amusement, and mild disgust. Not the response he was looking for at all. He pointed his gun at them. "Who you?" he asked.

The woman, (who should have been trembling and in tears according to Grimlock's experience) simply put a hand on her hip and gave the man an impatient glare. The man shrugged, and gave Grimlock a strangely fond, although exasperated look. He seemed to be suppressing laughter.

This was going all wrong from Grimlock's viewpoint. He was bigger than they were, and they should have cowered on the floor until one of the Autobots came to steer them in the right direction - usually right out of Central. This wasn't a high security area, but they didn't have visitor's passes, and Grimlock knew the rules. (He didn't understand them, but he knew them.) Some fraction of Grimlock's brain wondered if he shouldn't get some help deciding what to do, but it wasn't a fraction he was prone to listening to. He decided to fire his weapon just to the side of them, figuring that would surely scare them into the state he was prepared to handle.

The blast didn't hit the floor, it arced out of a straight line and into the woman, who snapped "Leash him!" at her companion. Grimlock was very confused. He was fairly certain his gun's blasts always went straight, even when his aim was off.

The man cursed loudly, and Grimlock was incensed by the bad words, at least until the man started shouting him name along with the curses. "GRIMLOCK! QUIT FIRING YOU STUPID BOZO!"

Grimlock couldn't place the voice, although it did sound vaguely familiar. Naturally he didn't listen to the man's orders at all. He went to fire again. By this point people were running towards the commotion and Lancer decided to do something before anyone got hurt. She concentrated briefly, and drew all of the energy out of Grimlock's gun. He tried to fire, then tried again, and again. When Kup and Ultra Magnus came rushing through the crowd of onlookers, the Dinobot was looking down the barrel of his gun and pulling the trigger, trying to figure out what was wrong with it.

Rodimus had one hand over his eyes, and Lancer stood there watching Grimlock with a bemused expression. "It would serve him right," she said to no one in particular, "if I put just enough charge back in that gun for him to shoot himself." Rodimus lost it, and Magnus had to almost carry his shrunken commander out of the sight of the onlookers. If Magnus noticed the faintly hysterical edge to Rodi's amusement, he gave no sign. Lancer followed Kup as they walked towards the Med-Lab.

"I tested your security on this building last night, Kup. I found a few holes you might want to look into," she said. She was unable to keep a certain degree of sarcasm out of her voice. Kup decided at that instant he didn't think much of this insolent human. The very idea she would, or even could test his security systems was so ludicrous he dismissed them as blatant falsehoods and bragging. The very idea.

Lancer frowned when he didn't respond with more than an offended look and a "Hmmmpff." She was serious. She had spent about an hour infiltrating Central to help herself calm down with a focused challenge. It hadn't been much of a challenge, unfortunately. It should have at least taken more than an hour for her to visit the command center, Prime's office and quarters, central records, the command center, and security control. Lancer had almost been regretting the nasty little notes she'd burned into the walls wherever she went. She'd included the time, how she'd gotten there, whoever she'd seen in passing, and what they'd been doing. She wasn't regretting any of it now.

"I left you a few suggestions," she said coldly, noticing Rodi's pleading look for her to be nice and ignoring it. "You might want to start with the air vents above your quarters. That's where I got started!" She stormed ahead of Kup, and into the Med-Lab where Rodimus was already looking up at the enormous capsule that would hopefully return him to normal.

Most of his friends were already waiting as well. Springer and Arcee, still in shock from the news that Rodimus was alive at all, were there on his request. He was afraid that if something went wrong, he wouldn't have a chance to say goodbye. Magnus leaned on one of the consoles, and only moved when Pipes, scurrying around helping with last minute adjustments, tried to reach around him rather than asking him to stand somewhere else. Jazz actually paced. Kup put his irritation at Lancer aside and fretted. Optimus stood apart, watching his partner and the stranger, knowing he was missing something and struggling to put it together.

Lancer gave Rodimus, who looked very pale, a long hug just before he stepped into the chamber. Just a friend, wishing another good luck. Certainly nothing more than a friend. Certainly not goodbye.

Rodimus entered the chamber. It felt so huge and cold. He looked out through the huge, clear doors. There were many sets of anxious optics out there, but he found he could only stare into one pair of wide blue eyes. For just one instant, his control cracked, and what he was feeling glimmered through. No one noticed the flash of emotion except for Lancer ...and Optimus.

The elder Prime struggled briefly to remember where he'd seen that same expression before. Then Elita's face surfaced like a ghost in his mind. He saw her surrounded by flames, "I want to go with you!" Her lips moved in his memory, but the sound of her voice was beyond his recall at the moment. The image struck him mute as his mind reeled with all that it implied about his young, sad friend in the chamber. Stunned into silence for a crucial moment, he was unable to prevent the procedure from beginning. Perceptor threw the switch. Optimus felt like an executioner.

Lancer stiffened as if in pain. Rodimus was invisible behind the rampant energy patterns which plunged through him - even she couldn't see him. A variation on the matter duplicator grabbed hold of Rodi's organic tissues and reverted them into matter more familiar. Sensations took a step back from his consciousness. He felt numb. He went numb. He passed out.

His partner's mind ran around in a flurry. The missing pieces fell into place one after another. Click, Click Click.

-Lancer's curious protectiveness.

-The unconscious way they often touched each other, and then drew back as if in fear of being seen.

-The sorrow he sensed in both of them.

-The silent way they worked together at every turn.

-Rodi's rage at Carly in the transport tube.

-The way Lancer seemed to know them all on sight, and knew her way around without asking.

-Rodimus had known about the fight in the shuttle tube as well. There was no way he could have known. First Aid swore no one had contacted him during the examination. Rodi had known anyway.

Optimus didn't know how to respond. His hands trembled with frustrated energy. He had to stop this! It was far too dangerous to interrupt the process in the capsule, but his heart cried out against it. When they had first become partners, Optimus had privately sworn to himself that this was the one sacrifice Rodimus would NOT have to make for their people. Optimus had lost his mate to time and circumstances. In all these years, there had been no word of Elita, and he assumed she was dead, but really he had lost her to his duty long before that. He had been determined that Rodimus would never have to make the same choice. Now, it was too late.

The chamber shut down. For good or ill, it was over.

"Success!" First Aid cried in unrestrained triumph. Studying the monitors further, he continued more calmly. "He's unconscious of course, but he's stable, and should wake up very soon. We should remove him from the capsule right now."

They opened the doors, and found Rodimus slumped against the back wall on the floor. All the Autobots present shared First Aid's joy and relief to have their friend safely back, as the familiar rust, orange, and yellow robot was lifted gently out by Prime and Ultra Magnus. They placed him on the examining table and First Aid and Perceptor began a more thorough check. Optimus made a show of studying his partner, but really he was watching Lancer out of the corner of his optics. She had leapt up to one of the consoles to get her first look at Rodimus as he was meant to be. Her face was a blank mask, but Prime noticed her nod slightly, as if she was saying to herself "that's that."

Arcee spontaneously grabbed Springer. "It really IS him! He's back! I don't believe it!"

"What are those strange marks on his housing?" Ultra Magnus asked First Aid.

"Scars," Lancer answered instead. "I wondered how they would translate. I'm sure you'll be able to repair them now." She stared at him a moment longer. "Are you really sure he's OK, First Aid?" she pressed.

"Completely. Even those 'scars' are superficial. You returned him to us in excellent condition."

Lancer could not bring herself to return First Aid implied smile. She merely nodded in acknowledgment and turned to leave. Optimus stood looking at his partner a moment longer when he had a sudden intuition that Lancer wouldn't be coming back.

"Oh no," he whispered. He startled the whole room by shouting and running after her without warning.

"Lancer! Lancer wait! LANCER!"

Unsure of what to do, all the Autobots in the room followed him, except for Perceptor, Pipes, and First Aid, who stayed with their patient. Lancer heard his shout and cursed both him and the long, deserted halls of Central. There were no doors or windows she could escape through easily, and it was ridiculous to think she could outrun anything with legs that much longer than hers. Not to mention their triple blasted vehicle modes. Her mind fogged a little with panic. She had never wanted an escape so badly in her soon-to-be-over life.

She turned to face Rodi's overgrown partner and his gaggle of friends defiantly. She was determined to be gone before Rodimus woke up.

"Lancer..." Optimus said, not liking the angry, frightened look on her face one bit, "what are you doing?"

"I'm leaving," she said, speaking as if he were a small and not very intelligent child.

Optimus didn't let himself get distracted by her tone, he was noticing her clenched fists, and the blood seeping through her fingers.

"You can't go! Not now!" he entreated.

"Of course I can! Watch me!" she stated with a faint snarl. With each passing second she grew more desperate. How to get away from this meddling Autobot without resorting to hurting him was becoming less of an issue by the second. She would hurt him if she had to.

"But..you can't..." Optimus began.

Don't say it Lancer begged him mentally. DON'T say it!

"Rodimus loves you..." Optimus said.

Lancer's head went down and her eyes flared. She started backing away from Optimus without watching where she was going. The hall was wide as a road, and deserted, so she wasn't worried. One step...another. Optimus took a step her direction. She growled.

"He'll get over it," she said in a distorted voice. She saw the assembled Autobots staring from her to Optimus in disbelief. I'm sorry, beloved she sent to her still unconscious mate. She knew his life had just gotten that much more difficult. Kup was in a rage, and the others were reeling. Rodimus? In love with a human? In love with THIS human?! She could almost hear their incredulous thoughts.

"Lancer, please," Optimus pleaded. He got down on the floor, as if that would help change her mind. "For Rodi's sake."

"YOU!" she snarled. Her whole body trembled with fury and she was suddenly, gruesomely fully fanged. Her tail smacked the floor repeatedly with a vicious "thwack". "YOU FUCKING HEART-TWISTER!" She gave a shrieking laugh that echoed off the walls. "Rodi's sake? Why the hell do you think I'm leaving if not for Rodi's sake?! LOOK AT ME! Is this what you want him tied to? Is THIS what you think he deserves? We've gotten a fucking mental link somehow, Optimus! He's got me tangled up in his mind! He's your partner! Have you even considered what would happen if he betrayed you? Especially with everything I had to teach him to survive?!"

"It doesn't matter what I think," said Optimus. "He loves you! And no, I don't worry about him betraying us. It isn't going to happen - with you or not! You aren't evil! He wouldn't care for you if you were!"

Kup, wide-eyed with shock, muttered something unintelligible.

"Maybe not," Lancer began with a whisper. "maybe I'm not evil yet. But if I fall, I might take him with me. I can't let him take that risk. I won't." She continued backing down the hall.

"STOP!" Optimus ordered.

She laughed at him.

"Wait! Where will you go?" Optimus questioned desperately.

What the heck, Lancer thought, Maybe the shock will slow him down. Aloud she said, "Jabez headquarters. I want to be very sure all the records were really destroyed." She was still backing away slowly.

"Alone? That's suicide!" Optimus gasped, suddenly aware of her entire plan.

Lancer didn't even need to say , "Of course." Her sardonic smile said it for her. She took another step back, turned like lighting, and ran.

Desperately, impulsively, Optimus made a grab for her and missed. She let loose a harmless but blinding flash, and the Autobots behind him stumbled over him where he knelt in their way. Optimus had been much closer to the blast than the others and his optics weren't recovering as fast.

"STOP HER!" he ordered. "We can't let her go through with this!"

Lancer snarled as she made it to the door, the Autobots close behind her. She slipped through and shorted its mechanism as she passed, freezing it in place with about a three foot gap. She ran like hell down the stairs, gasping in panic, and glad the docks were close. She fought her rage, trying to suppress it. She could feel it waking Rodimus. NO! NOT YET!

Behind her, but not far enough behind her, she heard Magnus and Springer making short work of the doors. She didn't look back, but she heard their running feet, and then the sounds of multiple transformations. She ducked in and out of the shadows, hoping to lose them in the more humanized sections of the docks. No joy. Jazz had her locked and was gaining. She couldn't let him get too close! She wasn't sure if his ability to dazzle people would affect her or not, but she wasn't about to test it. As he neared her, she blasted his tires, and gave him one moderate jolt . He lost consciousness and crashed. Lancer was almost sane enough to feel guilty. Arcee got too close also, and got thoroughly zapped for it.

Ship, Lancer thought, I need a ship! There! A single man freighter, currently unoccupied. Perfect! She had hoped to choose a slaver's ship, but at the current moment wasn't in the mood to be picky. She headed for her choice as fast as she could. Suddenly, she heard chopper rotors, and cursed as Springer landed between her and the ship. He transformed, blocking the entrance. Even if she knocked him out, he would still block the door. Ultra Magnus was cutting off the only other way out, and Optimus and Kup were closing in as well. She was trapped.

She felt the oddest sensation, and heard the strain of an overtaxed engine coming swiftly closer. She saw Magnus turn at the sound too late to prevent a streak of rust and yellow from plowing full tilt into his legs. The city commander toppled with a crash, and Lancer felt dim pain from places she had no prior experience with. Rodi's hood was dented from the impact, but he barely noticed the pain himself. He transformed on the fly and let his momentum carry him into Springer. The triple-changer was so stunned by this unexpected assault, he didn't even try to dodge. Rodimus pinned him to the ground with impossible strength.

"GO!" Rodimus shouted at Lancer. "GO!"

She stood frozen; she had counted on his unconsciousness to help her make the break. His anguished eyes pinned her, pleading with her to stay, even as he tried to help her escape. Her resolve wavered in the face of his pain. She stared at him - her face finally showing all the love and grief she was hiding. The same feelings painted Rodi's scarred features. How could she do this to him? It was Optimus' shout that unlocked her legs.

"RODIMUS?! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!"

Lancer knew he couldn't stop them all, and then she heard Magnus calling for backup.....

She ran into the ship, bypassing its security lock ups and startup sequences without really even thinking about it. She blasted off, and bolstered the engines enough to outrun any pursuers. There were none. The warp gate loomed in front of her like the final doorway to damnation and she took it gratefully, not caring where it led her.

x

x

x

Rodimus watched the ship vanish without moving. He still had Springer pinned, although the triple-changer could see Rodimus wasn't even thinking about holding him down any longer. That didn't make Springer's attempts to get loose any more effective.

"Make them pay," Rodi whispered to the air, "make them pay dearly for your life. They've cost me so much already - don't sell yourself cheaply." It wasn't until Optimus approached, ranting at full steam, that Rodi's eyes lost that hazy, milky sheen, and he seemed to refocus on the real world. He got off Springer without a word or offering to help him up. Optimus approached, reaching angrily for Rodi's arm.

"Rodimus have you lost your.. UMMPPHFFFF!" Optimus's tirade was cut short when Rodimus threw a punch straight at his head that sent him flying across the docks into the side of a building. Rodimus stalked towards his dazed partner, the very picture of living fury.

"WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU THINK YOU WERE DOING?!" Rodimus roared, his optics an eerie emerald.

Optimus shook his head, dazed by the punch and the question. "She's going on a suicide mission!" Optimus stated, as if that justified everything.

"Yeah," Rodimus intoned in a flat voice, "I know."

"You...you KNOW?! And you're LETTING her?!"

"Letting her? I don't LET her do anything! I have no authority over her and never did!"

"But...she loves you," Optimus said, again as if that explained everything.

Rodimus stared at him a long moment. "Yeah," he finally whispered, "I know that too."

"D..don't you love her in return?" Optimus said, doubting his instincts for the first time. His partner's behavior was beyond mystifying. The others were cautiously approaching. Jazz and Arcee looked a little dazed, but not seriously hurt. Magnus' only apparent damage had been to his dignity.

"You obviously know I do, but she was a warrior before we met, and she's a warrior now. It was never my place to decide her battles for her. Our love for each other doesn't change that. No more than my love for her freed me of my obligation to all of you."

"If this is what it comes down to then I release you from your duties! We can manage without you, you know!"

Rodimus laughed bitterly. "Even you can't do that Optimus! We've been through this before. As long as I can be of any use, I'm obligated to be here. Until death do us part, or all are one, I'm trapped, and you know it. Now drop the sentiment, it doesn't suit you."

"Doesn't her life mean anything to you?" Springer asked earnestly. The question earned him a nasty look, which quickly faded into sadness.

"Of course it does, but it's her call. Her life is her responsibility, not mine." Rodi's eyes grew unfocused again. "I'm not sure I could have loved her otherwise," he mused, as if that was a revelation to himself as well.

"SHE'S GOING TO DIE!" Optimus stated again, too used to protecting humans to accept the situation. Kup muttered something under his breath Optimus didn't quite catch, but it sounded suspiciously like "Good." He threw the aged warrior a shocked look, but couldn't read Kup's expression. Optimus only hoped Rodimus hadn't caught that remark as well.

"She's gone, Optimus. If I can accept that, you're going to have to also."

"But..."

Rodimus crossed his arms and looked disgusted. He continued fixing his partner with his optics, even as First Aid rolled up. The medic was scolding him even before he'd completely transformed.

"There you are! What in Cybertron's name are you doing out of Med-Lab? You shouldn't even be on your feet, let alone out here running around." he grabbed Rodi's arm and pulled him towards Central. Rodimus endured the scolding, and walked back with First Aid in silence.

Total silence, Optimus realized with a start. Not even his metal feet on the metal floor made a sound. There was a new fluidity in Rodi's every move, and an air of strength barely under control. It was then Optimus realized how skillfully they'd all been distracted while Lancer made good her escape.

As the Autobot's followed them back to the main complex, they saw a human male rush out to where the ship Lancer stole had been parked.

"Lazy Sue!" the man screamed.


	9. Chapter 9

**Maelstrom 1**

**Homecoming: Part 9**

Rodimus really, really wanted to scream - not from pain, not from flashbacks or nightmares, but just from the pure frustration he was feeling.

Lancer was gone...had been gone for days, but he was trying not to dwell on that. His body was his own again - a large, vibrantly painted metallic shell...and it felt like a shell. He didn't know why it felt so far away from him now but it didn't feel like part of him. It was more like wearing an animated corpse for armor. Best not to dwell on that either. Instead, he wanted to focus on all he needed to do if only he was given permission. Permission did not seem likely any time soon.

Covert escape was definitely rising on his list of viable options.

"Come on First Aid! You've done every test ever tried and a few you just made up for the heck of it! Let me out of here already!"

"Rodimus we've discussed this," First Aid said in a firmly casual voice that told Rodimus the issue wasn't even up for debate in the medic's mind. "You are not leaving Med-Lab for another few days at least. We are keeping you under wraps and under observation until we are satisfied you are fine. Some of you internal structure has been changed and you yourself complained of sensor problems just two days ago."

"I explained that to Perceptor...there's nothing wrong...I'm just readjusting to getting sensor readings rather than direct sensation. Please First Aid...I've got a lot of work to catch up on!" Rodimus said. Yeah...like about a billion years worth of cultural idiotics... he thought to himself.

"You've been gone for over a Terran year and whatever it is can wait a few more days," said First Aid. His unruffled demeanor was absolutely driving Rodimus to distraction since it meant all of Rodi's repeated requests, rationalizing, veiled threats, and degrading begging were having the same effect - as in none whatsoever. Nothing he did irritated First Aid in the slightest (the medic stubbornly refused to be affected) so Rodi didn't even have the faint hope of annoying First Aid into letting him go. Perceptor was even worse in this regard since he didn't stop nattering long enough for Rodimus to even try pleading with him.

"First Aid PLEASE! I need to get out of here!" Rodimus tried.

"Rodimus Prime, if you think I mourned you for a year only to risk your health by letting you go merely because you are bored you are entirely mistaken. Boredom is a non-fatal condition. I'm a medic...trust me. It is!"

Rodimus made a big show of groaning and shaking his head. He wasn't bored - he was panicky with all he needed to achieve but he couldn't let First Aid know that. He went back to the computer he'd been given to "study" what had been going on in his year long absence. He was studying...but not in quite the way his over-zealous medic thought. He was going over the shipping and travel records of the numerous space-ports which had become the engines driving Cybertron's resurrection.

When he and Optimus had first authorized a major space-port here in Iacon they had done it mostly as a show of confidence to neighboring systems they wanted to open trade agreements with. They had spent long hours devising ways to defend and secure the port before ever building it so that they could approach the bargaining table with confidence and assure potential trading partners that their people, ships, and cargo would be safe from Decepticon raiders. The Primes had known how important and healthy it would be for Cybertron to begin a strong trade with its allies but they had a pleasant surprise in how much the space-ports would do for their world.

In the end it had not been the planetary governments which made the biggest difference but the real traders - the people who actually landed on Cybertron if only to refuel and move on. They brought with them a variety of biological and psychological needs which prompted the construction of restaurants, stores, hostels, medical facilities, and eventually even entertainment complexes and day-care centers for aliens of many different varieties.

The influx had been rather a shock to Cybertron's war-weary culture. Structures devoted to the pleasures of the body and mind? A movie theater for travelers to attend if they stayed over night? Even Rodimus had approved of such things in sort of a daze - such things were associated with Earth in his mind - not Cybertron. Decimated, bleak Cybertron. Practical, bare-bones survival Cybertron. It was hard to picture people coming here for the fun of it.

The Paradronians had been enthralled of course and had designed malls and hotels unlike those found anywhere else to attract visitors like gleaming gems of promise.

Finding ways to keep these seductive constructs secure had given Kup and Magnus surges, but Optimus had assured them their toil was for the good of everyone and Rodimus had taunted them with their "folding under pressure." They had done it of course and Magnus had been almost defiantly proud of that achievement - claiming that if he could find a way to secure those "trinkets" he could do anything.

The leaders had merely smiled, praised the plans, and informed their officers that they were approving the eventual construction of 10 more space-ports - four of them to be major hubs like Iacon.

The last hub had been completed while Rodimus had been "away."

Now Cybertron boasted some of the most successful and busy ports in the known universe. The four major hubs provided convenient launch points from every side of the planet. Cybertron's location in a previously planet-less system was (coincidentally) VERY convenient for many of the major shipping lanes in this part of space. There was nothing else close that could compete - especially if you were going to or from Earth.

Cybertron's closest neighbor and ally was also new to intergalactic trade but the humans were discovering (to their surprise) that they had a lot to offer. Their technology was new compared to some species but with the influence of the Autobots threading through most of it, it wasn't necessarily inferior. Earth's resources were being jealously protected (Optimus and Beachcomber had refused to let Terran officials even contemplate selling off Earth's minerals and water. It had taken some real work but they had eventually convinced even the most stubborn capitalists that sending their ecosystems off-world would destroy the planet.)

However, the rest of the solar system was being mined for sale. Even the poisonous gases on Venus had value if you knew where to sell. Of course most of the luxuries being built on Cybertron were directed at humans who were closest in location and trusted the Autobots the most.

Nevertheless, you could find a place to stay no matter your finances, your size, or your atmospheric requirements.

Cybertron now let millions of visitors through her doors every year. Like a nourishing river they had brought life back into a nearly dead world and now Rodimus noted that the circles of revitalized area which surrounded each port had now grown together so that they now nearly covered the globe and were penetrating into the deeper levels of Cybertron's decaying core.

So much progress. So much good change. Who could have imagined it even a few decades ago? And yet.....

The volume of people traveling on and off constantly was enormous and Rodimus knew that somewhere, hiding in the flow like a thin stream of poison in the tide was a slave trade of unprecedented sophistication.

Looking at the numbers from just the last few days made Rodi's head swim. He knew they were there - but how would he find them in the swarm? He was tempted to just close all the ports to alien travel just to get their taint off his world. The very thought of them made him quake with fury and disgust but he knew that shutting everything down was an infantile response. Easy - but stupid. They would just find somewhere else and he wasn't about to send Cybertron back to the dark ages just to let them continue their sick trade elsewhere. As much as he brindled at the use of his home for such purposes he wanted them found and destroyed even more.

He would find a way. The scream in his soul...the one he could never release told him that. He would find a way.

He needed to keep track of who was here, what they did, and where they went. Since First Aid wouldn't let him go anywhere to start work on the security around Central Rodimus opted to begin devising a program which would help him sift through millions of honest travelers to find his prey. He also began mentally inventing ways to cover his tracks when he was done with a hunt... it wouldn't do to scare the slavers away. Rodimus wanted them where he could reach them.

x

x

x

When the alarms sounded it literally made him jump up with surprise - Decepticons were the last thing on his mind.

"Sit down," First Aid said casually.

"Huh?" Rodimus said. Lancer's mind was no longer directly linked with his, but he knew she would have teased him for THAT intelligent response.

"Sit down," First Aid said again. "You aren't going anywhere. We've managed a whole year without you and missing one more fight certainly isn't going to hurt you."

"Uhh..." Rodimus said. His mind was still swimming with thoughts of cargo ships, shipping records, surveillance cameras and the like...with the faces of the children he'd seen Converted resurfacing in his thoughts every now and then no matter how hard he tried to just focus on the numbers. The alarms were an unwelcome distraction and foremost in his thoughts was the desire to get them shut off.

He was a bit startled by his own attitude and for the first time really realized how much his focus had changed. Here he was, an Autobot Commander, and he'd literally forgotten his traditional foes might somehow be a factor in his life. They seemed such a small threat now...one he and Lancer had decided he could afford to leave in place more than he could afford to remove them. He thought of them as a cover now...an excuse for his real campaign to take place... an alibi of sorts to keep the Jabez and their Sponsors from feeling threatened.

Rodimus had forgotten the Decepticons could be dangerous.

He sat down though...partly to pacify First Aid and partly to observe how his people handled the threat. Besides...most of the Autobots didn't even know he was back home yet. Optimus had decided to delay the announcement until First Aid was satisfied with Rodi's condition. Even First Aid's fellow Protectobots didn't know why their medic had been hauled off to Cybertron on short notice. If Rodi suddenly just appeared in the midst of this fight his friends might be frightened, confused, or even attack him as an impostor. Certainly he would be more of a distraction than anything else. He tuned his internal communicators into the Autobot's battle frequencies and listened in - seething with frustration that he couldn't go out and witness for himself. (The act of tuning in seemed such an alien act. He had no trouble doing it but he was very aware of the process of it. It seemed so...so mechanical.)

The first thing he heard was the word "Predacons". He gathered from the annoyingly general communications that the Decepticon Gestalt unit was "on the rampage again" and "running around aimlessly destroying stuff".

Stuff? Rodimus thought to himself with a frown. WHAT 'stuff'?

He waited tensely for more details - like which Preds were where and what they were doing exactly but he waited in vain. It aggravated him to no end and he was amazed at the anger he felt. True the reports were a bit sketchier than he would have permitted even during his first term as commander but they weren't that far off. He knew that he would have been a most a bit annoyed ...before. Now he wanted information down to the minutia - partly because Lancer's training had taught him the smallest details could make a huge difference, partly because having been human he had new appreciation for things which seemed insignificant to large robots, but mostly because he knew that this tendency to think only in broad generalizations had allowed the Jabez funded slave trade to flourish right under the Autobots' high-held noses.

He wanted nothing more than to shout into the communicators for his people to keep track of the Predacons relative positions and when the name "Predaking" came over the airwaves he clunked his head down on the desktop.

There was a huge burst of static and then the communications ceased.

The silence was too much for him to take and when First Aid looked up moments later he was astounded to find nothing but an empty chair... mostly because he had been standing between Rodimus and the door the whole time.

Rodimus took care that no one noticed him but evading his peoples' sight was less difficult (and therefore more annoying) than he'd hoped. True Lancer and he had gone to extremes devising ways for him to employ her teachings once he'd gotten home but that didn't change the fact he was now a large, gaudy robot rather than a flexible fleshing who could chose his outfits according to need. They had debated whether or not he should change his glaring paint job but had decided against it. Compensating for his coloring would make things more difficult when he needed stealth but not as difficult as explaining why he'd done it. Certainly his design would provide another sort of camouflage - who would suspect a 60 foot Transformer with flame decals to function effectively as an assassin? In his youth he had complained no one took him seriously - he was only now starting to appreciate and take advantage of that fact.

Nevertheless, he was not pleased with how well his assassin's skills were working. The Autobots had just repelled an enemy invasion - they should have at least been looking for more intruders. Given they didn't even know Rodimus was home alive yet he figured he qualified as an intruder. They weren't even looking. Rodimus got out of Med-Lab just in time to see Predaking retreating from Autobot cannons. The area's communications tower was a smoldering ruin which explained the blackout of secured transmissions but rather than acting overly concerned with getting it back on line, the Autobots in the area were busy patting each other on the back and laughing at Predaking's clumsiness for "falling on it."

Rodimus didn't like the sound of that...Predaking wasn't known for being clumsy and even if he had been Rodimus didn't understand why the defenders weren't checking to make sure the area was secure. Even Hot Rod had known better than that!

As minutes passed he got ever more paranoid and more angry. If he'd been an enemy he'd take advantage of this fooling around to launch another strike. He decided to do some checking himself...and caught sight of Laserbeak scooping up Rumble as he transformed into cassette mode. The vulture-spy was quickly joined by his twin who was likewise carrying the Frenzy-cassette.

Rodimus cursed the need for secrecy and thought fast. He fired one shot - not at the intruders but in their direction - knocking down rubble from the tower which balanced there from the initial assault. It tumbled with a crash and got the attention of the milling Autobots. It was still a few second before they noticed the cassettes making their escape.

It finally occurred to them to make a more careful inspection of the area....just in time for them to act surprised when the charges went off.

Multiple explosions rocked the area - destroying more communications, power lines, several bridges and access tunnels, and bringing down enough tall buildings to cut off the area from ground-level reinforcements.

Rodimus employed every curse Lancer had ever taught him. When he saw his people were still not responding as if this were an active assault he began to lose the rigid grip he kept on his Jabez-spawned psychosis. They were no longer congratulating themselves, but the Autobots were acting as though the worst was over. They were angry about the damage and the fact the spies got in....they were not looking for further assault.

When Cyclonus, Scourge, and the Sweeps stooped in on them from the cover of the thick smoke now blanketing the area, the Autobots were taken by surprise again. Rodimus was only surprised he had people left to come home to. He wondered, briefly, what his partner had been thinking letting discipline go so slack these last months. He didn't have much time to ponder though.

Cyclonus was leading his squadron on another run and they were bringing down targets with chilling precision. Galvatron coalesced out of the smoke and found himself a perch on one of the smoldering rooftops - his laughter could be heard over the sounds of exchanged laser-fire and the report from his fusion cannon was more often followed by a scream than not. Strangely though he seemed content to stay there - raining down devastation from above rather than pouncing on the fallen to enjoy their pain. Often he would become so distracted by one victim it was usually possible to shoot him - ending the battle and saving his victim as well. Not today.

Still, as bad as things were, Rodimus knew the Aerialbots would soon arrive with reinforcements and was able to restrain himself from participating.....that was until an enormous shadow eclipsed the moon.

Trypticon.

Flanked by Menasor and Predaking.

Rodimus saw the Aerialbots move in to engage the huge Con's dinosaur mode - they had tackled him successfully in the past by remaining separate and agile. This time though, both Predaking and Menasor were there providing back up. The Predacons separated - most harrying the Aerialbots from the ground except Divebomb who fired on them from the air. Menasor put himself between them and Trypticon. The teamwork was enough to delay the Aerialbots long enough for Cyclonus to lead the other fliers back around. Silverbolt was not fool enough to try to tackle all of this enemy attention at once - he ordered his team to scatter and regroup. They did escape - but not without injury. Rodimus followed several smoking trails across the sky with his optics - he was vaguely grateful that Silverbolt's team at least was in top form or they wouldn't have escaped at all. Still, they were out of the picture for the moment and as of yet the Decepticons had not suffered a single serious casualty.

There were screams coming from the demolished buildings. Civilian humans and Paradronians fled in terror while Trypticon simply squashed their buildings. The Autobots tried to organize a counter-assault but with communications down they weren't getting through to each other.

Rodimus forgot the need to remain hidden.

Perched on a rooftop himself, he went through the now alien act of charging and aiming his weapons. After a moment's concentration he called his rifle from subspace (vaguely surprised it still existed and responded to his mental call.) Then he waited for the aerial squadron to fly past his position (he knew they hadn't seen him) and opened fire right into their flanks as they passed him. Cyclonus got by without a scratch since Rodimus had deliberately waited for the bulk of their formation to draw abreast of him. Taken totally off guard from the side, Scourge took heavy damage and two of the Sweeps went down in flames. The other were all hit to varying degrees and by the time Cyclonus was even able to deduce where the assault had come from Rodimus was already on the move and gone.

He ran through the paralyzed ranks of his friends - screaming orders he barely heard himself. Some part of him was a bit startled at how easy it was to fall into that role again - it had been a long time since he'd given an order. Over a year. Over a lifetime.

In his frenzy though, he'd forgotten... and when some of them merely stared at him in terror he took his fury out on them. It wasn't until Blurr actually fainted at the sight of him that he remembered they all thought he was dead. Somehow he was still annoyed that they just stood and stared when his orders were the only sensible thing to do and they should have been doing them anyway. The noise, smoke, laser-fire, and Trypticon's incessant roaring and challenging did nothing to lessen the chaos either.

Another building went *CRUNCH* and Rodimus went berserk.

Rational thought left him really. A rational being would never have attempted what he did.

His mind went into a mode of thinking Lancer had instilled in him. It was the same form of thought she fell into when faced with Convert armies... the threat analyzed without emotion, solutions evaluated and discarded without prejudice, and action taken in a near trance which while it gave a kind of tunnel-vision for the goal also left you alert for threats from all sides. He moved, still analyzing but only with regard to minor changes in the outside world which might impede his progress.

He saw the foot - but didn't view it as such. It was a ramp...a launch point. The motion was distracting so he paused briefly at the next major joint. Retracting his normal hand and bringing out a whirling cutter he reached down into Trypticon's knee joint while the lumbering robot took a step. From where Rodimus clung there was a brief instant when the knee bent far enough to expose the internal mechanisms. No other angle provided such a target and Rodimus risked his own limb reaching inside but his state of mind didn't allow for fear. He recognized the risk..and discarded it in time to act.

The blades suffered damage even though he was past Trypticon's armor just because he was working so fast and the cables were so thick. He cut the primary hydraulic line though and jumped back to avoid being sprayed by slippery gouts of fluid. Trypticon howled and reached for the painful breach and for the first time his escorts realized they had a parasite to contend with. By the time the massive hand came down though, Rodimus was already further up the massive body. He had reached his first target and was busy breaching it - one of the maintenance hatches into Trypticon's body. Brute force could not have pierced the shielding on the hatch but two well placed blades and some pressure.....the door opened obligingly and shut behind him undamaged.

Rodimus heard a dull clang from the outside and knew either Menasor or Trypticon himself had been reaching for him. The fact was barely noted however since it had no bearing on what Rodimus was doing now. Trypticon's internal defenses went on line but lacked for a target. Rodimus hadn't learn to walk softly under Lancer's care for nothing although he knew he had little to fear from anything Trypticon could bring to bear.

Rodimus knew he could elude most if not all of the standard defenses but he took care not to trip anything. If he wasn't being shot at he would reach his target sooner and he wasn't one to blindly assume he knew all Trypticon was armed with. Even if the information he'd had on the giant Con had been complete and accurate a year ago (a BIG if) it was now surely outdated information.

Even in this state of mind Rodimus did not take needless risks.

He slid through Trypticon's sensor net as carefully as he could, as quickly as he could. Only when he came upon major sensor junctions did he risk detection by disabling them. Once an area was deadened he would cut more hydraulics as long as he could do so without much delay.

Those on the outside could only watch in amazement as Trypticon lost sensation and control over more and more of his left side. Never the brightest of beings, Trypticon was quickly beginning to panic. He had never conceived of such injuries and he couldn't even begin to think of a solution. Menasor had told him someone had gotten inside but he couldn't FEEL anyone and didn't believe Menasor at first...it certainly wouldn't be the first time one of this fellow Decepticons had tried to trick him with some cruel joke he didn't understand. Nothing really hurt but the numbness was confusing and the lack of response from his limbs was frightening. He wanted his leg to move. It always moved when he wanted it to...why not now?

Cyclonus was shouting something frantically at him about opening his hatch but Trypticon was too panicked to understand. He lumbered in circles on his one good leg... knocking Menasor over without even knowing it. Round and round he turned and then he suddenly stopped. Cyclonus flew up to his face and transformed to try to get through to the terrified juggernaut. If there was an Autobot inside they needed Decepticons in there as well. He ordered Trypticon to open the hatch again and then paused....something wasn't right. The giant Con was still - too still.

It wasn't until the color began leaching from Trypticon's hide that Cyclonus was able to recognize the impossible... and when an Autobot...when Rodimus opened the hatch at the top of Trypticon's head Cyclonus was stunned senseless. As if in slow motion Trypticon's corpse sagged forward - straight for a paralyzed Cyclonus. Galvatron launched himself form the rooftop and pushed his frozen second out of the way. Trypticon's massive head cleared them by inches and the wave of air it pushed aside sent them spinning into the nearest wall.

Rodimus rode the body down - praying everyone had the presence of mind to get out of the way - and launched himself upward just before the moment of impact. The corpse's weight embedded it into the surface and Rodimus landed lightly on its skull again before the echo had passed.

He stood there, glaring at his aghast troops. Rodimus still wasn't fully back in a normal frame of mind and he stared at his people as he had at Trypticon. They weren't friends to him yet...he made no effort to put names to the faces...they were a problem he needed to confront and he looked on them with a dispassionate assassin's eye in that regard.

He had also forgotten they didn't know he was alive again.

His focus, tunnel-like though it was, created a sphere of awareness around him on all sides. He stood there motionless - at least until something entered that sphere....

He never saw or even consciously heard the attack. If asked he would not have been able to say what had warned him. His hands were moving before he even identified the threat. Razorclaw was one of the few Transformers capable of moving silently - for all the good it did him.

Rodimus struck before he was even consciously aware there was something to strike. It was one of the knife-like hand slices Lancer had taught him. They hadn't been easy to learn with those easily bruised hands of flesh. Now he was horrified at the amount of damage he inflicted - not because he tore so far into his enemy's circuitry, but because he barely felt his hand passing into Razorclaw's housing as if it were soft paste. The stiff-fingered jab plunged deep into Razorclaw's beast form.

The cat had been leaping down on him so much of the force came from Razorclaw's own downward momentum - letting Rodimus' hand penetrate deep into his chest just under the outstretched foreleg. Leaning forward allowed Rodimus to avoid the slashing foreclaws and reach for a hind leg with his free hand simultaneously. Gripping the back leg firmly (with his other hand still embedded in Razorclaw's circuitry) Rodimus added to the force of Razorclaw's pounce and slammed the Con into the top of Trypticon's skull in a fluid arc. It was instinct now to finish the enemy off... both from Lancer's training and the fact that it would have been mercy at this point. Razorclaw's foreleg was hanging off his mangled chest by a few frayed wires and a thin twist of housing metal. Fuel and lubricant were rapidly pooling on the ground and yet the Predacon was aware and suffering. Rodimus raised his foot for a killing blow to the head and then stopped himself. He had to remind himself forcefully that he needed the Decepticons alive and strong enough to be a believable threat.

He should never have entered this battle.

He should have let it take its course even though he knew some of his people and the civilians they guarded would have been killed. The skills he had just so thoughtlessly exhibited would be difficult to explain away and now he had rumor control to devise. Coming down out of assassin's mode left him feeling sick - hopeless. He wasn't sure he could just stand by and let people die even if he had to...and yet he had to. His interference just now might have cause irreparable harm to a campaign of silence he hadn't even begun.

How could he convince his people he was the same as he'd always been? How could he convince the Decepticons?

He realized suddenly that all the fighting had stopped. Autobots and Decepticons alike were standing side by side, weapons held limply, with a common focus.

They were all staring....at him. Every one of them. Even Cyclonus. Even Galvatron.

Rodimus started laughing. He couldn't help it. He laughed hysterically, painfully, and even the Autobots started backing away. After a few more seconds of horrified gaping the Decepticons fled. Rodimus kindly jumped down off of Trypticon so Scourge and Divebomb could collect Razorclaw but Rodimus' laughter continued even as they withdrew to Char.

It was just so funny. They had all been staring at him together. They'd finally been one.

The prophecy fulfilled at last.

He had to laugh. It was either that or kill every last one of them and end this farce forever.

x

x

x

Fortunately he already had his lies worked out in advance and by the time anyone had the nerve to find out if he was actually who he appeared to be he was in control again. Not calm, but in control.

Silverbolt didn't mince any words. He prodded his long-missing commander with the business end of his weapon. Rodimus almost started snickering again but he held it. Silverbolt seemed almost surprised when his gun didn't pass straight through.

"You're real!" he whispered.

"If you say so Silverbolt!" Rodimus said. He was proud of the grin he managed - it must have looked pretty sane.

"But...we thought you were dead!" Silverbolt gasped.

"Never assume a Prime is dead unless you see a corpse...and in Optimus' case not even then!" Rodimus said. This time the grin came easier - Silverbolt actually seemed sort of glad to see him.

"But....if you weren't dead..."

"Let's just say I've had a long vacation even I don't fully understand. I've been home for a few days - Optimus and I were gearing up for a formal announcement thing after First Aid proclaims me fit to have fun! Sorry to startle everyone, but this fight sort of interfered with our neat little schedule....which reminds me!"

Rodimus turned on the gathering crowd of his warriors. "WHAT THE HELL DID YOU MORONS THINK YOU WERE DOING?! I got back just in time to save you idiots from yourselves apparently! What happened to communication? What happened to teamwork? What happened to securing the area after an incursion? Has THINKING gone out of style or something?" He continued to rant and was bemused when the fear and confusion on the faces all around him turned to happy smiles and laughter.

What did they have to be smiling about? He was seriously pissed.

Oh yeah, he thought stupidly when Silverbolt grabbed him in a bear hug and Blurr's running charge knocked them both off their feet.


	10. Chapter 10

**Maelstrom 1**

**Homecoming: Part 10**

Rampage flew backward's from the impact and Tantrum followed immediately to land on top of him. Rampage couldn't see much from under Tantrum but from the sound of repeated, enraged blasting he figured he was better off smothering under the bull's weight than out there with no cover. The two of them opted to play possum - it was usually good strategy when Galvatron targeted you for one of his rampages.

The only thing was...this time it wasn't Galvatron.

It was Cyclonus.

The Decepticons had flown home in stunned silence. Retreats were nothing new but this time was different. Razorclaw had moaned and gurgled - his wounds were hastily treated as they ran and he'd been lucky to last long enough to make it to Char's medical facilities. Donations of energon from his fellow Predacons had made all the difference. Although none of them mentioned it, every Pred was painfully aware of their situation. None of them wanted to end up like the Constructicons.

The donations of fuel had made them tired though, so getting out of Cyclonus' way had taken them longer than some of the others. Which was why they were currently decorating the walls.

The assault had come without warning of any kind. Everyone, even Galvatron had been quiet on the way home. Trypticon's death..TRYPTICON! Dead! Not even Deadend had anything to say about that...as if he thought his usual apocalyptic prophetizing was somehow redundant now that they seemed to be on everyone's mind. Of all the Decepticons to fall...Trypticon!

Razorclaw's vicious wounds somehow made it all more terrifying and harder to understand than even that. Few of them had ever seen more savage wounds...not even wounds THEY had inflicted.

And all of this the result of one Autobot.

Which Autobot?

A clumsy, stupid, viscous Dinobot? No. Any of the very few Bots known for deep hatred for Decepticons? Nope. One of the old warriors like Kup or Magnus who made no excuses for their behavior on the battlefield any more? Nope...not them either.

It had been a Prime. Another dead and gone Prime. Or rather another dead and not gone enough Prime!

Everyone had flown all the way home thinking about that. About how Trypticon was totally dead and Rodimus Prime was not quite as dead as he should be.

The one time anyone had said anything was when Frenzy had said one name..."Starscream" and was immediately pummeled into silence by Rumble.

Everyone kept a close eye on Galvatron who seemed rather...pensive. They didn't expect it to last. For Cyclonus to be silent was no surprise though - he rarely spoke unless he had to. They'd landed, gotten Razorclaw stabilized and under repair, and then all hell broke loose.

There'd been no warning...not even a yell at first. The Decepticon second had merely assaulted the nearest body and gone on to the second without a sound. When he finally had made a sound it was with his considerable firepower first, and only then had he started screaming and cursing at all those who caught his attention. None of it was very intelligible of course...except when he caught hold of Motormaster and thrashed the larger Con to the ground. The Stunticon commander knew what Cyclonus was saying - that he was an egotistical, moronic liability on wheels... Motormaster just didn't understand why Cyclonus was saying that. He did understand his life was in danger though...and he understood pain.

Already in shock over the day's events, and stunned anew at who was perpetrating this violence, most of the Decepticons didn't even scatter as they would have if it had been Galvatron on a rampage. Cyclonus seemed to have centered on Motormaster for some reason and it was clear he wasn't going to stop. Wildrider went into a panic that his gestalt-mate would be killed and tried to intervene. Cyclonus backhanded and blasted Wildrider with one motion - sending the Stunticon flying backwards to leave a distinct impression against the wall upon which he collapsed.

Motormaster took blow after blow - far too stunned and injured to even defend himself. Salvation came from the most unlikely of places. There was a tap on Cyclonus' shoulder. The enraged Decepticon whirled....to look right down the barrel of Galvatron's fusion cannon...and right into Galvatron's smirking face.

The Decepticon leader gave no appearance of anger. He smiled at Cyclonus almost proudly. "Now you understand," he whispered to his second who was frozen in complete shock. Then Galvatron started laughing. He sounded eerily like the flame-colored apparition on Trypticon's lifeless skull. He laughed and laughed and though Cyclonus remained frozen in his sights, the rest of the Decepticon army fled in utter panic. Motormaster fainted - his consciousness running when his legs could not.

x

x

x

Rodimus wished he could scream. He really really wished he could scream- not from pain, not from flashbacks or nightmares, but just from the pure frustration he was feeling.

"What an utter waste of time and resources..." he thought - a big, silly smile pasted on his face. But then he wouldn't be Rodimus Prime unless he enjoyed a huge party in his honor now would he? He thought about that. No. Rodimus Prime would love a big bash like this. Rodimus Prime would love the loud music, delight in seeing Kup, Magnus, and Optimus suffering from that same music because it was his party and they had to endure it. Rodimus Prime would delight in seeing as many of his friends as were safely possible to attend coming together to talk, dance, and enjoy themselves in the name of his safe return.

Rodimus Prime would surely love this. Yet here he was counting the seconds so he could finally get to work... who did that make him then? Not Rodimus Prime, that was for sure. In the mean time he chatted Springer, danced briefly with Arcee, explained (again!) to Grimlock that he'd never really been dead at all and couldn't tell him what it felt like. He complimented Blaster on the choice of "tunes" and made the expected suggestion that Blaster "crank it up a few more decibels," since Magnus and Kup were "old and hard of hearing."

Actually the music was the worst part. Why did so many human songs have to do with love or lost love anyway? The wall in his mind was hurtful enough without all the reminders.

He kept that smile plastered on his face though and thought even Optimus was fooled. The elder Prime seemed pleasantly surprised at how much Rodimus was enjoying himself. Good. Let him be fooled. It would make things much easier if Optimus didn't know everything.

The story they'd given the Autobots was not really a lie so much as an even more abbreviated truth than he'd given the senior staff. Rodimus knew the Quints were involved with his original capture and he wanted to mislead them with what they already knew. He knew they'd hear the story he gave his people sooner or later. As it stood, he told his friends that a Quint had used some kind of teleporter on him and that he'd ended up far from Cybertron. He gave just enough details to make it seem like the teleporter had either misfired or that he'd ended up in the right place but didn't remember it. He claimed he was "missing time" since he had been gone for several more months than he could account for.

Any Quint checking up on his capture would know that Jabez base had been destroyed. They might even know the Maelstrom had done it. He claimed to have been found floating in space by "sympathetic people with... ummm... slightly illegal job descriptions" who then smuggled him home. Let the Quints worry about who that meant. If they assumed some kind of smugglers had found him it would explain why he was reluctant to name names. They might even think the Maelstrom crew had rescued him without telling him their real purpose. It was something they had done numerous times in the past to protect those they rescued and obscure their actions.

The Autobots certainly swallowed it, and in a way it irked him that they were so gullible...and that he had to leave them that way. It also bothered him the way those who thought they knew more than the others seemed a bit smug, and a bit distressed over how easily the others fell for his lies. As if they weren't falling for lies themselves. He wondered if any of them ever considered that...and caught Magnus looking at him a bit suspiciously. Hmmm...Optimus he'd expected to be suspicious, but now he saw he'd have to tread carefully with Magnus too. Rodimus reminded himself to be more careful about what he wished for.

He sighed and felt unbearably lonely all of a sudden. He remembered clearly when a night like this would have seemed so pleasurable. Loud music, overabundant energon, all of his friends. It felt so distant now. The music couldn't reach him.

The light seemed far away. The conversations of his friends irrelevant. He stood alone is a sea of light and sound and none of it touched him with his very thoughts divorcing him from everyone he loved.

The only thing that might bring them closer was suspicion like Magnus was feeling...suspicion Rodimus would have to assuage to kept them distant. He felt dead, and cold, and...and it wouldn't help him to start feeling sorry for himself. He had to accept the fact his body didn't seem real anymore and that he wasn't likely to get much sensation out of it. He had to get used to living undercover amongst his friends.

Blurr and Wreck-gar came up to talk to him and he forced himself to focus on them - to follow and translate every cumbersome word...and tried not to miss a friendship which had required no words at all.


End file.
